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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364485">Blessed Be The Fight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraGC/pseuds/LaraGC'>LaraGC</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>24 (TV), The Handmaid's Tale (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Angst and Feels, Crossover, Drama &amp; Romance, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Feminist Themes, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infertility, Miscarriage, Parent-Child Relationship, Rape, Romance, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:01:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>99,356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaraGC/pseuds/LaraGC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While Jack Bauer is rotting in a Chinese prison, The United States Of America falls into the hands of a Christian extremist cult called The Sons Of Jacob. A totalitarian, theocratic regime is established. But Jack gets rescued from China, and is determined to restore America back to normal, and take his country back from the most dangerous and powerful enemy he's ever seen. Meanwhile, Renee Walker lost her husband, her daughter and is now forced to serve as a Handmaid. Can she and Jack defeat the Republic of Gilead? Or will they have to settle for escaping together?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Bauer/Renee Walker (24), Larry Moss/Renee Walker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: And now the world is ours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Author's note:</strong> Hello. This is my first time in this site, but I have published in fanfiction.net before :) \ This story is a crossover Mixing 24 characters with The Handmaid's tale. I'll try to write assuming some 24 fans reading this never watched The handmaid's Tale, so the story should be easy to follow for those who watched only 24. I'll keep the events happening in 24 unchanged until the end of Season 5.</p>
<p>This is what you need to know about the timeline I'll use:</p>
<p>24 DAY ONE (Super Tuesday): March 2, 2004-  24 DAY TWO: September/October 2005-  24 DAY THREE: September/October 2008 – 24 DAY FOUR: March/April 2010-  24 Day FIVE: September/October 2011</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Blessed Be The Fight </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Prologue: And now the world is ours</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>January 2014</strong>
</p>
<p>For the record, Gilead was never my intention. Neither my father's. At first, we were just a father and a son in a search for money. Who doesn't want money?</p>
<p>The plan was to let some international terrorist group acquire twenty canisters of nerve gas. But then we would kill them in an "Accident" on the way to attacking Moscow. Just the fact that a terrorist group managed to acquire the nerve gas would give the US the excuse to increase its military presence and oil activity abroad. Nobody wants weapons of mass destruction in in central Asia, after all. Alan Wilson and his associates, such as that nutcase Jonas Hobbes, would become disgustingly rich selling weapons and the services of their private military companies. Oil prices would inevitably soar, which is good when you sell oil. Everyone would be happy. Well, not everyone-everyone…. Just everyone who matters.</p>
<p>But then my brother had to come around, with his attitude, and fuck it all up. As he always does. Luckily, I managed to send him to rot to a Chinese prison. So, that problem was solved.</p>
<p>Of course, we had a bigger problem in our hands. The world had a much bigger problem. Fertility rates were dropping fast… very fast. That was something I was very familiar with. I discovered in the mid-90's that I can't father a child. I had to beg my brother to donate healthy sperm, and through the magic of artificial insemination, my son Josh was born. (One would think that Jack donating his sperm to make me a dad would wake a deep brotherly love I should have always felt for my big brother. Quite the contrary. I resented him more than ever). By 2010, it seemed that infertility had become an epidemic, a pandemic.</p>
<p>One day, I had a very secret meeting with Alan Wilson. He usually communicated through computer, without showing his face. But he felt this issue was too important, had to be discussed in person. We met in my office. He told me about this group of people who called themselves "The Sons Of Jacob". They are a group of Christian extremists. And I really do mean extremists. Their dream was to turn the USA into totalitarian, theocentric, and neo-Puritanical regime. They wanted to clean the country, literally and figuratively. They wanted to ban abortion and birth controls. They wanted to keep women in their houses, ban them for working, just serving their husbands. All that I could get on board with. But they also wanted to reduce the pollution that's making people barren by ending capitalism.</p>
<p>I know what you're thinking. Wow… no money? Just organic farms and tokens? Are they insane? And what about the oil? Oh, here's the thing…. A totally decarbonized economic model is impossible. Even the least industrialized nation on the planet needs oil. You definitely can't run any massive modern army without it. And those lunatics would need the biggest and most modern military in the world if they expected everyone to just go along with their insanity. No doubt about that. So, Wilson would provide the army, I'd secure the oil to keep it running.</p>
<p>The only question was… Did we really want to help those lunatics end capitalism? Wilson, my father and I had worked to become extremely rich our whole lives. I was not too eager to let that go, neither was Wilson. Of course, we wouldn't need money anymore since we would just take whatever we wanted. (In fact, I ended up moving into a mansion much bigger and nicer than the one I had in LA. I think we took it from some gay CEO). And we would have all the free labour we needed.</p>
<p>We took time to think things through. There were a couple of more meetings. I researched A LOT about The Sons Of Jacobs. I read a book called "A Woman's Place", written by one Serena-Joy Waterford, who at the time was a key member of that group. Boy, must be feeling very stupid now! Anyway, I found the reading very interesting. I also read the bible. Oh, dear. I had never noticed it before, but if you take that book too literally, we are all committing a sin just by using the toilet. We were very concerned about how the group's extremist religious views would affect us personally. The three of us like young women, alcohol, cigars, etc… But Wilson was certain that the most powerful men on the country would be able to get away with pretty much anything. (We actually managed to get secret brothels where we can satisfy our more, eh, earthly needs). In the end, it was my father who said:</p>
<p>"Money is like the Mc-mansion that starts falling apart after 10 years. Power is the old stone building that stands for centuries. That's what I always wanted to build. That'll be our legacy"</p>
<p>Just like that, we were on board.</p>
<p>Around August 2012, Wayne Palmer officially accepted the democratic party's nomination for President of The United States, challenging republican Hal Gardner. The Sons Of Jacob were livid. They had suffered in silence when liberal black divorcee David Palmer was in control, empowering minorities and women. They wouldn't put up with anything like that ever again. They started a fierce online campaign attacking Palmer, planted fake news blaming Palmer and his family for everything that was wrong in the world (My favourite was the rumour that the Palmers run a child-trafficking ring from a pizza place), and threw all their money at old white Hal Gardner. But it was futile. After the mess with Charles Logan, no republican would win again anytime soon. No way. No how. So, as expected, on November 2012 Wayne Palmer won by a landslide. It was time to act.</p>
<p>Abu Fayed was just the type of sucker we needed to get everything started. One of those Islamic extremists who actually believe in their cause and despise America deeply. And he hated my brother almost as much as I do. That was a plus. Turned out, we weren't the only ones trying to use Fayed as a pawn. Some Russian bastard had the same idea. But we got Fayed on our side after all. We supplied Fayed with what he needed. Then we just had to sit and watch our TVs.</p>
<p>He got everything started on Thanksgiving Day. A random bus was blown off in New York City, causing four deaths. Just a few hours before the parade. Starting with Manhattan was the perfect way to create fear. After the weekend, two more buses were blown off, this time in Chicago. Seven people were dead. The number of victims was low. But that didn't matter. People were scared. The attacks kept happening almost every day. And everyone was blaming Islamic Extremists. Fayed was smart enough, though, to frame another Muslim prick called Hamri Al-Assad. On January 20th 2013, Wayne Palmer took office in a private ceremony. He was hardly seen in public anymore, which didn't help make anyone feel any safer. By February, around 1000 Americans had been killed. Wayne Palmer was under an enormous amount of pressure. His administration was divided over a plan to create detention centers for every Muslim in the US.</p>
<p>The Son of Jacob felt like they were seeing the face of God.</p>
<p>I provided Fayed with nuclear weapons, only so he would get caught with them and cause mass panic. Those weapons were useless without the detonators anyway, so there wouldn't be any real harm. A nuclear attack was the last thing any of us wanted. But he started going rogue. He told Palmer he would turn in Hamri Al-Assad… If the Palmer administration gave him Jack Bauer. Fayed wanted to torture and kill my brother himself. Wayne was actually considering getting Jack out of the Chinese prison, just to let Fayed kill him. I felt it was a terrible idea. While I was happy to see my brother die, no matter how, it was too risky for us to get Jack out of Shanghai. The best course of action was to keep my brother locked up there, where he couldn't cause any problems. An anonymous tip (Wink, wink) gave CTU, the FBI and the CIA, evidence of Fayed's involvement in the attacks, clearing Hamri- Al-Assad of wrongdoing. Hence, keeping my brother in China.</p>
<p>The authorities found Fayed soon. But not soon enough. On February 10th, he managed to detonate all five nuclear weapons on American soil, as near as possible to the biggest nuclear plants in the west coast. Around 40.000 people died instantly. The Midwest and Southwest became inhabitable. I was horrified and livid. That was NOT supposed to happen! The CIA, the FBI and CTU were supposed to find him BEFORE he could detonate the bombs. Can't they function without my brother? Honestly… they have nobody but themselves to blame. It was not my fault. It was not my fault. It really wasn't.</p>
<p>Anyway, what was done was done…. It was time for the final blow. Presidents' Day was the day we chose. February 17th 2013. One hundredth brown men with machine guns stormed into the Capitol Building killing everything in sight, while another heavily-armed large group did the same in the White House, and the Supreme Court Building. Troops needed to be deployed. The shooters were all killed, but so were over 5000 innocents. More importantly, there was nobody left to govern. Quite literally. Wayne Palmer died in the hospital. Noah Daniels was also killed. Everyone in the Presidential Line of Succession was dead. The army declared a state of emergency.</p>
<p>As owners of all the biggest Private Military companies in America, Alan Wilson and Jonas Hodges formed what they called "Committee For National restoration", supposedly a temporary government until the nation got back on its feet. They included my father and I. We also included the most prominent members of The Sons Of Jacob: George Winslow and B. Frederick Judd, who brought in other members of their group. So, there we were. A bunch of old white men in charge.</p>
<p>The first thing we did was to declare martial law and suspend the constitution, claiming it'd be temporary. "National security". We sent all the Muslims to detention camps. You can't be too careful after five nuclear bombs and a massacre. Right? We also deported everyone not born in the USA, regardless of their citizenship status. It was done so quickly; everyone was too stunned to react. All money was replaced with cards. Nobody could spend one cent without the government (the committee) knowing what you bought and where. It was an understandable security measure. We installed security checkpoints all over our cities.</p>
<p>But, Little by little, Wilson, Hodges my dad and I were losing control of the republic we were creating. George Winslow and Fred Judd named themselves "High Commanders of the Faith" and took over. Dad, Alan, Jonas and I were sent to New York with the title of "Commanders". The High Commanders started taking measures that they tried to justify with the low fertility rates. Abortion had long been banned. (Thanks, Hal Gardner). Now birth control pills required a husband's signature, and were eventually banned. Women's bank accounts were frozen and accessible only by their husbands or any male relative. Women were banned for working. Their role was to reproduce and raise children. That's when the massive protests started. And it was then that The Sons of Jacob dropped the charade. The troops that were patrolling the streets were given orders to shoot the protesters.</p>
<p>Soon, the CIA, and FBI and CTU were all shut down. The agents who hadn't broken any law were given the chance to serve the country as "Angels" (that's how the military is called now) or "Guardians Of the faith" (regular law-enforcers). Those agents who were guilty of adultery or 'gender treachery' were executed. (I'm so glad I was smart enough to send my son Josh to New Zealand before they started to shoot all the gay down).</p>
<p>It got even wackier. Fertile women who get caught breaking the law are forced to become A Handmaid. What's a Handmaid? She is a woman forced to bear a child for her commander and his wife. I have no use for my handmaid, since I already know I can't father a child. I know it. My wife Marilyn knows it. And my dad and my brother know it. But Jack's trapped in China, and anyone would lose their tongues if they even dared to suggest a man is sterile. Yeah, that's the best part. Legally, a man can't be sterile. So, I get to enjoy pretending to get a woman knocked up every month.</p>
<p>If a woman commits a serious crime, such as adultery or 'gender treachery', but can't bear children, she gets sent to The Colonies.</p>
<p>Oh, yeah… the colonies. Remember how the Midwest and Southwest became inhabitable after the nuclear attacks? We are sending the criminals to clean it up and make it habitable again. The women there die of radiation poisoning after a while. I suggested giving them some sort of protective equipment to make them last longer, so we wouldn't run out of slaves too soon. We want that place clean after all, right? The Committee didn't go with it. But that's fine. As it turns out, you never run out of criminals when you get to decide what's a crime.</p>
<p>And if you are thinking "They can't do that! This is America!"... Well, we can, because it's not. This is The Republic of Gilead.</p>
<p>It's not like nobody is trying to stop us.</p>
<p>Alaska and Hawaii are in control of a so-called 'American government-in-exile', with James Heller as President-in-exile. But their troops are pathetic. They haven't gathered enough international support for an invasion, and the probably never will. We are cleaning the environment and populating our republic. Who can disagree with that?</p>
<p>An 'American militia' controls, unofficially, the entire West Coast and the Gulf Coast, and northern Michigan along with a few enclaves in Vermont, New Hampshire, and some parts of Maine and New York. But they barely holding. They don't have the resources to beat our army. So, we are not worried.</p>
<p>My father was right. Power is so much better than money.</p>
<p>Gilead will be our legacy, and it will last for centuries.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Renee’s Crossroads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After 16 months trying to bring down a Russian arm-trafficking ring and enduring an abusive relationship with their leader, FBI agent Renee Walker struggles to overcome a major trauma and figure out her next steps. True love becomes the most unexpected option.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author’s note: Hello, everyone. I hope all the readers are doing well in these challenging times. Before fully getting into Jack Bauer’s involvement and Gilead, I decided to develop two aspects that (I felt) were neglected the first time I wrote this story for fanfiction.net:<br/>1- An explanation of why and how exactly Renee Walker’s story in this fanfic differs from show’s canon.<br/>2- A deeper explanation of how The United States of America turned into Gilead. The Handmaid’s Tale mentions a big terrorist attack that obliterated the legitimate government, and led to The Sons of Jacob taking over. The show gives glimpses (flashbacks) of what seems to be a ‘transitional time’, where life in the US was neither ‘normal’ nor the dystopian nightmare it would later be… this seems to take place between the attacks, and the day June was captured. And it’s hinted that even before the attacks, Christian extremists were using the infertility plague to influence some policies. (June needing a husband’s signature for birth control, BEFORE the legitimate government was killed). Also… the roles of the police, the CIA, the FBI and NSA in the immediate pre-Gilead era has never been too clear. it’s only hinted that the FBI had strong suspicions regarding Fred Waterford and his group, but never got anywhere. Given Renee is an FBI agent and CTU exists in 24’s universe, I felt the role of government agencies deserved a better explanation in my story.</p>
<p>Important clarification: there’s a lot of talk online comparing the freedoms being lost due Covid-19 with Gilead… I personally think that’s absolute bullshit. Please, do not interpret any line of my story as me supporting such nonsense. You cannot compare some temporary restrictions that apply to any living human, based on actual scientific evidence, real testimonies and real deaths, with a LITERAL coup d'etat based on a terrorist attack, orchestrated by the same seeking power, who don’t base anything they say on science, or facts, but on their messed-up interpretation of the Bible. You cannot compare what’s going on now, some new annoying rules affecting everyone equally, with LITERAL WAR CRIMES targeted mainly at minorities just because they are considered ‘sinners’.<br/>In case someone is curious… I’m not an atheist. I’m not practicing any official religion at the time. But I was raised as a catholic (the default religion in my homeland), and converted to the Methodist church at the age of 14, and participated in it for many years… that’d be the religion that’s still closest to my heart and beliefs, if I had to choose one.<br/>That’s all from me. Thanks for reading. I’d love to get your comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>RENEE'S CROSSROADS </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 02<sup>nd</sup> 2009 </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>New York Community Hospital, Brooklyn, New York. </strong>
</p>
<p>She began waking up from the anesthesia, struggling to recall why she was in a hospital bed. Then flashes of the night before flooded her mind. The yelling in English and Russian. The smell of alcohol in his breath. Him kicking the side of her body, as she was already down. All the blood coming from the wound in her head… and from inside her womb.</p>
<p>As a strong nausea hit her throat, she tried rolling to her side, but the pain was too strong. Somebody helped her get in a better position, and held a paper bag under her mouth, as some bile spewed out of her. When she was on her back again, the other person cleaned up her lips with a wet wipe, while repeating: “It’s fine. You’ll be okay. I’m here for you”.</p>
<p>She managed to open only one eye, since the other one was too swollen. She saw Larry Moss standing by her bed. She vaguely remembered grabbing her cellphone to send a distress signal to the FBI, after it became clear Vladimir would kill her, sometime after midnight. She’d sent a text to her case officer, and another one to Larry.</p>
<p>“You’re here”, she mumbled. Her mind still foggy.</p>
<p>“Of course”, he struggled to remain composed. Seeing her again for the first time in 16 months, alive but so badly wounded, was bringing up too many feelings he had to hide.</p>
<p>“What happened?”, she asked, wincing in pain. It was hurting her lungs just to breathe in. But she noticed that she could speak and open her mouth without feeling pain in her face, which meant that, this time, her cheekbone wasn’t fractured, like it had been last August.   </p>
<p>“You had a concussion, five broken ribs…”, Larry’s voice was breaking slightly. He’d just found out this was her third visit to the emergency room in ten months… always with some broken bone. This time she had suffered a miscarriage as well.</p>
<p>“I meant… with the case”, she interrupted him, still somewhat groggy. She didn’t want to discuss her injuries with Larry, ever. “Did they arrest <em>him</em>?”</p>
<p>“All the members of his ring were arrested”, he replied, which didn’t answer her question. It was a sad attempt to postpone saying the only words that could make Renee’s day even worse, if such thing was even possible.</p>
<p>“What about Vladimir?”, she insisted, noticing the defeat in Larry’s face.</p>
<p>“Nobody knows where he is”, he was forced to admit.</p>
<p>“What?!”, Renee grew alert and tried to sit up, but the pain on her chest was too strong.</p>
<p>Larry helped her sit up more comfortably, placing extra pillows behind her back. “Is that better?” Renee nodded, but she was visibly hurting. “You need more pain killers and an ice-patch”, he said, heading towards the door, to get the nurse.</p>
<p>“I need to know how that son of a bitch got away!”, Renee’s eyes were filling up with tears of anger. But she managed to contain them.</p>
<p>“I don’t know”, he scoffed, showing his anger and frustration for the first time. “When I got here, FBI and NYPD had already raided his house, his offices… but they didn’t find him”.</p>
<p>“How long it’s been…?” Renee asked, not even sure if it was the same day. She vaguely recalled waking up in the main bathroom floor, to the sound of FBI agents raiding Vladimir’s mansion, and being rushed to the hospital. There had been a lot of questions, tests and waiting. But she hardly remembered any of it. And she didn’t know how long she’d been under the anesthesia.</p>
<p>“It’s just about half-past four, in the afternoon”, Larry answered, while moving the curtains covering the window, to let some natural light in. He figured it could be good for her.</p>
<p>“So, he could be anywhere by now”, she realized, with her voice breaking, and a single tear flowing down her cheek. “It was all for nothing”.</p>
<p>Feeling heartbroken for her, he approached her bed and tried to offer somewhat reassuring words. “Not nothing. He lost all his men. Most his assets. He’s a fugitive in the most wanted list. And that’s because of you”. Despite his words, she kept her head down, looking profoundly ashamed of herself. Wishing to be supportive, in any way, Larry tried holding her hand, as he had done in the past, but this time it only made her flinch. “I’m so sorry”, he said, clumsily stepping back. “I… I better get you that ice-patch, and the doctor”</p>
<p>“I need to talk to Agent Lundy…”, she gasped, as she struggled to breathe and her tummy was hit by extreme cramping.</p>
<p>Ignoring her request, Larry rushed to get medical help instead, and then was forced to wait in the hallway, outside her room, as Renee was checked by her doctor.</p>
<p>FBI Agent Melvin Lundy, her case officer, was also in the hallway, just waiting for his chance to interrogate her, looking like a vulture. “Agent Moss, how’s our girl doing?”, he asked with a casual tone, as he read something on his own cellphone.</p>
<p>“Excuse me? <em>our girl</em>?”, Larry stared at the other man in disbelief, feeling enormous outrage building up inside. He had always hated Melvin. He got on the other man’s space, with his most intimidating look. “If you’re talking about our colleague, Agent Walker, you better refer to her as Agent Walker!”  </p>
<p>“Okay”, Melvin stepped back slightly from the taller agent, who resembled an angry wounded wild animal right then.  “I need to talk to her. Laitanan was seen inside Newark airport, three hours ago. But he’s not there anymore”. He showed Larry an image on the screen of his cellphone, where Vladimir Laitanan could be seen inside the airport, wearing a New York Yankies baseball cap. “We believe he got on a plane, using an unknown alias”</p>
<p>“Great, we can narrow down that bastard’s location to <em>this entire planet</em>!”, Larry snapped sarcastically at the other agent, after seeing the image on Melvin’s cellphone. “How could you let this happen, Agent Lundy?!”  </p>
<p>Melvin remained calm. “Agent Moss, you have no idea what we were dealing with. This case belongs to the New York office, which you no longer run. I’m only keeping you informed as a courtesy, for old times’ sake…”. He had worked with Larry from 1999 to 2006. But he had never witnessed him losing his temper, or showing emotional distress, not even during the city’s darkest times.   </p>
<p>Larry just puffed and shook his head. “Agent Lundy, not only you let this mission go too far, but you failed to arrest the main target, after Agent Walker risked everything to get you the intel you needed…” Before Melvin could protest, Larry raised a hand to stop him, “I’m not interested in your courtesy or your excuses. Just be very grateful I’m not your boss anymore, or your career would definitely be over”.     </p>
<p>After what felt like an eternity, a doctor walked out of Renee’s room and announced to both agents: “She’s better now. She’d like to see you”.</p>
<p>When both agents walked into the room, Renee was sitting up in the bed, holding an ice-patch over her broken ribs. </p>
<p>“Agent Walker, I’m glad you are getting better”, Melvin said, rather awkwardly. He put a brown bag over the small table with wheels by the bed. “I brought some of your personal belongings recovered from Laitanan’s mansion”          </p>
<p>“Thanks”, she anxiously checked the contents of the bag with one hand. She was relieved to see that her laptop was still there. Now that the doctor had given her more pain meds and anxiety medication, directly into her bloodstream, she was feeling much better. More serene, with minimum pain, but lucid enough to go through her files. She was anxious to start working on her final report, and finally put the last 16 months of her life far behind her.  </p>
<p>“And do you want the clothes and shoes from your apartment as well?”, Melvin asked, trying to be nice but, sounding patronizing.</p>
<p>Renee shook her head in a heartbeat. “I don’t want anything from that place”</p>
<p>“Okay”, Melvin took his own laptop from a briefcase and set it up on the little table. “Ready to start the debriefing?” Renee nodded, much to his relief. “Let’s start with the events of last night then…”</p>
<p>“Wait… Larry, do you mind…?”, she gestured towards the door. She didn’t mean to be rude, but she wasn’t about to describe her life as Renee Zadan in front of Larry Moss. It seemed like he already knew far more than she had ever wanted him to know.</p>
<p>“Oh” Larry was a bit startled. “You sure you don’t want me to stay for this?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure”, she affirmed.</p>
<p>“All right” he agreed, with some reluctance. He thought of another way to help, while giving her some space. “I can go get you some new clothes, and other stuff you’ll need”</p>
<p>“Thanks”, she said with the tiniest smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nearly three hours later, Larry returned with a few shopping bags. “May I..?”, he asked tentatively by the door, before approaching her. Renee was by herself, siting in the bed, with an open laptop in front of her.</p>
<p>“Yeah. The debriefing is done, now I’m just working on the report”, she said, closing the laptop. Any other person would have been surprised by her dealing with the report, right after such major trauma, but Larry knew her far too well.   </p>
<p>“How did it go?”, he asked, handing her the bags.</p>
<p>“Fine”, she replied almost automatically. She had, at least, protected her reputation in the FBI, by not disclosing the most private aspects of her relationship with Vladimir and claiming she had ‘<em>fought him off’ </em>every time he had tried to rape her. It felt like a small victory.</p>
<p>She looked inside the shopping bags, as Larry sat on the chair by her bed. There were toiletries, two plain nightgowns, jeans, an ordinary purple t-shirt and new basic underwear… which was very awkward for both of them. But couldn’t be avoided. She had nobody else available, in New York, to help her out. And she definitely didn’t want any clothes from the last 16 months. She wouldn’t wear any garment Vladimir had ever touched.</p>
<p>At the bottom of the bag, she saw something even more embarrassing, but also crucial in her situation. A large pack of sanitary pads… maxi pads, meant for heavy bleeding. Particularly useful after a miscarriage. Larry had thought of every single detail. Most men wouldn’t know which pads were best for her situation, but his wife had experienced three miscarriages in the past.</p>
<p>“Thank you”, Renee managed to whisper, too ashamed to look at Larry directly. She had already noticed he was the only one who knew about the miscarriage, other than doctors and nurses, but she still didn’t know how. “Who told you?”</p>
<p>“When I got here, your doctor spoke to me, because I’m still your emergency contact”, he explained. Renee was unfazed, and nodded, as if that was the answer she had expected. “They told me you needed a D&amp;C, that it was risky to let the miscarriage happen naturally, you were losing too much blood”. As he spoke, Larry braced himself for an emotional reaction… that never came. She just stared silently at the wall in front of her, looking cold as ice. It was unsettling. He wasn’t sure what to say next. “I’m so sorry”  </p>
<p>“Don’t be”, she reassured him in an instant, now looking at him. She knew he was expecting a waterfall of tears. But she couldn’t even muster a single teardrop over the pregnancy loss. She was only feeling shame over her relationship with Vladimir.</p>
<p>“Larry, I appreciate everything you did. Really. But I need to be alone now”, she said, trying not to sound too cold. She was just too ashamed of herself to be around anybody right then.    </p>
<p>“You sure?”, he asked, hoping she’d change her mind. “I don’t mind…”</p>
<p>“I’ll be fine”, she insisted with a sharp tone. </p>
<p>“Okay”, Larry reluctantly stood up. He hated the idea of leaving her alone in such difficult times. But he had to respect her wishes. “Is there anything else you need before I go?”</p>
<p>“No. I’m fine”, she assured him, hastily.</p>
<p>“See you tomorrow?”, he said in tone of a hopeful question.</p>
<p>“Okay”, she agreed, figuring she’d feel better in the morning.     </p>
<p>Before leaving, Larry wished he could hold her hand, or touch her cheek, or ran his hand through her hair… anything at all that could show a tiny fraction of how he felt. But he remembered her flinching at his touch before, so he decided not to do anything.  </p>
<p>Once alone, Renee managed to leave the bed and walk to the bathroom. She moved slowly, groaning, while dragging along the wheeled pole holding the IV bag and carrying her new nightgown and clean panties. Walking few those steps hurt like hell. But, at least, she had walked to the bathroom without help for the first time since arriving to the hospital.  </p>
<p>She looked at herself in the mirror, examining the damage. Her right eye was purple. Her lower lip was puffy, with a visible cut on the left side. Her neck had reddish marks. She remembered now Vladimir wrapping his hands around her throat, nearly choking the life from her, until sirens were heard. He tossed her brusquely and ran away.  </p>
<p>When she took off her hospital gown, she saw the left side of her chest looked bruised. But what brought tears to her eyes was the small red rose tattooed in the spot between her breasts: her initiation tattoo. Gotten shortly after being accepted into <em>his</em> crew. Vladimir had watched as it got done, with a proud smile on his face, very impressed by the fact that <em>his woman</em> didn’t seem to feel the needle at all.</p>
<p>She couldn’t stand to look at herself anymore and covered her body with her new nightgown. Larry had bought her a very long, blue, modest cotton nightgown with a fully opening front, which seemed made for hospital use. So practical. So sensible. So appropriate. She couldn’t help a bitter chuckle.</p>
<p>She then dragged herself, and the IV bag, back to her bed. She opened the laptop, and was able to check her real email accounts for the first time in sixteen months. She decided to begin with the one she used only for personal reasons: ReneeWalker82@hotmail.com</p>
<p>She thought it’d be good to reconnect with her real life, her real self. As expected, she had to delete of tons of spam. She noticed a large number of unsolicited ads about fertility, offering IVF treatments, fertility drugs, and shady ‘<em>natural alternatives</em>’ or <em>‘Miracle solutions</em>’ for those who couldn’t conceive a baby. Even advertisements for banks, or private loans, said: ‘<em>Start financing your IVF treatment TODAY!</em>’.</p>
<p>She had also received an email from some religious organization called <em>The Sons of Jacob</em> with the subject: ‘THE TRUTH ABOUT THE INFERTILITY PLAGUE… GOD IS THE ANSWER!!’. Renee deleted it without even opening it. She had already heard about that religious movement. They were just a group of nutcases spewing sexist nonsense.</p>
<p>However, such reminders of ‘<em>the infertility plague</em>’ made her feel very guilty. Three in four couples worldwide couldn’t conceive a child naturally, or suffered miscarriages if they did. But she had conceived a baby by accident, while being on birth control no less, and then felt nothing about the baby being gone… nothing but a tiny hint of relief. The last thing she would have wanted was a baby from Vladimir. Maybe she was some sort of monster… maybe she deserved every bad things that had happened to her.</p>
<p>She managed to push those thoughts away. She told herself that all the people desperate to become parents wanted a child either with someone they loved, or some clean anonymous donor, or surrogate. Nobody on the planet would want a baby from Vladimir Laitanan, if they knew him. They’d have to be batshit crazy to want <em>his</em> spawn. She took several deep breaths, telling herself her reaction was only logical, under her circumstances.</p>
<p>She finally reached an email that interested her. It was, unsurprisingly, from her former mentor at the FBI… Zoe Gianna Moss, Larry’s mother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sun January 13/2008</p>
<p>From: ZGMoss1938@hotmail.com</p>
<p>Subject: My best wishes, from Sicily.</p>
<p>My dearest Renee, the daughter I never had… </p>
<p>I’m sorry I missed your going-away party. I hope these words reach you before you start your assignment. I wanted to say, again, that I’ve always been proud of you. I’m so glad I got to watch a woman like you take the oath and pick up the badge before retiring.   </p>
<p>I’m not allowed to know anything about your mission, but I know your background, your skills. I recruited you and was one of your instructors in Quantico. I can guess what they want you to do. We both know your entire life has been a preparation for this moment. You’re ready. You’ll succeed. But you are smart enough to know that it won’t happen without great pain and sacrifices. That’s okay. It’s okay to feel the pain and lean in those who love you. I’ll be there when you come back. So will Larry.</p>
<p>Good luck. Hoping we meet again soon.     </p>
<p>Love,</p>
<p>Zoe</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With her fingers and lips trembling slightly, on the verge of tears, Renee began typing an answer… but then desisted. She wasn’t ready to write to Zoe, yet. She was too embarrassed. Zoe’s most challenging undercover mission, ended in March of 1972 with the main target, an Italian-American mob boss, in a federal prison… and Larry being born in August. Zoe had always seen Larry a wonderful blessing. Meanwhile, Renee felt that <em>not</em> ending up pregnant by Vladimir had been the single blessing in her own situation. How could she ever admit such thing to Zoe, or even to Larry himself?</p>
<p>She brushed off tears that kept falling from her eyes, and moved forward to another unread e-mail that interested her more than anything else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sat January 12/2008</p>
<p>From: LarryMoss72@hotmail.com</p>
<p>Subject: Good luck and thanks</p>
<p>Dear Renee,</p>
<p>I hold no hope you respond to this, or that you read it any time soon. I know you’re planning to meet him tomorrow, so you must have cut all ties with your real life by now. I can only hope that you live to read this someday. Sorry. Too dark? I’m so scared for you. I just want to apologize to you again, sincerely, for my shameful behavior last night. I’d never been that drunk, and I swear I’d never done karaoke before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’m so sorry. You know I was raised better than that. At least we were more honest with each other than ever before. I guess that’s something. But I still feel awful, and truly embarrassed. Thank you for being so understanding. Thank you for bringing sense into me, pushing me to do the right thing. You are such a good person. That’s why I’m terrified for you. That’s why I begged you not to take the assignment. It’s not that I think you are too naïve or too weak… You certainly have the brains, and the skills. But you’re also too good, too decent. I just hope you make it through in one piece, regardless. As I write this, I realize that you will be just fine, because you are the smartest and strongest person I know. You are very capable of dealing with anything that life throws at you. And when your mission is over, I’ll be here for you. We’ll always be friends, even if we are not meant to be more in this lifetime.</p>
<p>Here for you, always</p>
<p>Larry</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As she read, Renee could imagine Larry’s voice saying every word. She realized the email had been sent on the morning of January 12… it must have been written while she was colouring her hair with black-cherry red dye, as if covering whatever innocence left in her. That afternoon, she took a train to New York, leaving behind the well-intended FBI rookie with light auburn hair, and a hopeless crush on her married boss… now that rookie felt like a complete stranger, who was looking very small from the distance.     </p>
<p>She didn’t deserve to be called ‘<em>a good person</em>’ or ‘<em>decent</em>’… not anymore. She certainly didn’t deserve a man like Larry being there for her, or with her. Any goodness and decency in her had been lost, at some point in the last sixteen months. <em>That </em>was the biggest damage Vladimir had ever caused to her. And the realization felt like a knife straight into her heart.</p>
<p>Fueled with self-loathe, Renee knocked down the laptop to the floor and broke down in uncontrollable sobs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 03rd 2009</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slightly after 10 AM, Larry arrived to the hospital to check on Renee, wondering if she’d want to see him. He knocked on the door and slowly opened it. There was a black-haired man in his late 30’s, wearing blue scrubs, standing next to her bed. The stranger’s badge said ‘<em>Dr. C. Foster. Chief of ER.’</em>. Larry then realized who the man was… Dr. Clayton Foster, a guy Renee had dated for almost four years, and had been very briefly engaged to. Due the personal connection, the doctor hadn’t been involved in Renee’s medical care and was just innocently catching up with her, after six years of not seeing her.</p>
<p>“That’s my wife Paige with baby Chelsea. Born seven weeks ago”, the man said with a proud expression on his face, as he showed Renee an image on his cellphone. </p>
<p>Despite of her own emotional turmoil, Renee couldn’t help but to chuckle when she saw the new-born girl dressed with a bodysuit that said ‘<em>New York Knicks Lil Dribbler</em>’. Clayton had always been a big fan of The Knicks. “So cute. Congratulations”</p>
<p>Clayton was about to praise a fertility clinic and the specialists for the miracle of his baby’s birth. But then they noticed Larry standing awkwardly by the door-frame, holding a bag that said <em>Tompkins Square Bagels</em> and two coffee mugs.</p>
<p>“Larry, hi”, Renee greeted him, with a tiny smile.  After her nervous breakdown the day before, she had been given strong medication to get a night of deep sleep. She now felt a bit calmer, and stronger. “He’s Larry Moss, my...”, she began saying to Clayton, but trailed off, not knowing how to introduce Larry anymore. “I used to work for him”</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m Clay Foster. Red’s ex fiancé”, the doctor introduced himself, with a cocky smirk.       </p>
<p>“Nice meeting you”, Larry replied and shook the man’s hand, just to be polite.</p>
<p>“Wait till you get to know me”, Clay joked smoothly. After his pager made a sound, he realized he had no time to catch up anymore. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Red… but I’ve got a whole ER to run…”</p>
<p>“Does it have patients you <em>haven’t</em> dated?”, she asked, pretending to be shocked. </p>
<p>“Of course… this isn’t Manhattan”, he kidded, with a wink, before rapidly leaving the room.  </p>
<p>Larry was more than happy to watch Clayton leave. Now that he’d met the doctor in person, he found Renee’s ex fiancé too obnoxious. Or, perhaps, it was just jealousy.  </p>
<p>“So, that was Clay…”, he commented, attempting to sound casual.</p>
<p>“Yeah… he became chief of ER in this hospital last month”, she said, with a clear <em>don’t-go-there</em> tone and look. Larry had strongly advised her against working undercover in New York, precisely because too many people from the past could have recognized her as Renee Walker while Vladimir was around. By a miracle, nobody did… But many other things Larry had said 16-months earlier actually happened.</p>
<p>But he had no intention of giving her the <em>I-told-you-so</em> speech she’d been dreading. He was there to be a friend, not to make her feel worse. “Anyway, I brought coffee and bagels”, he announced, putting the bakery bag and cups on a table, which he wheeled to her bed. “Cinnamon raisin, and there’s extra cream cheese”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you”, a small smile appeared on her face, after noticing the coffee was a macchiato. She was surprised, and moved, that Larry still remembered her preferences.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome… <em>Red</em>”, he raised his eyebrows, jokingly using Clayton’s nickname for her.  </p>
<p>“Yeah… you and I don’t do that… <em>boss Moss</em>”, she warned him, lifting her index finger.</p>
<p>“Okay… no silly nicknames”, Larry promised, chuckling and lifting his hands in surrender. Renee seemed briefly stunned by something. He feared she had noticed the absence of his wedding ring. But, much to his relief, she said nothing and just had some coffee.</p>
<p>He sat on the chair by her bed. They were silent for several minutes, until he saw that the lid of Renee’s laptop had a big crack. “What… what happened to your computer?”</p>
<p>“Just a clumsy accident”, she lied, looking down. Then she smiled falsely at Larry, to reassure him. “It’s fine anyway. A bit banged up, but still works”</p>
<p>“All right”. He nodded. He could easily tell she was lying, but he knew her well enough not to insist right then. He drank some of his black coffee, contemplating what to say next. “Has Dr. Collins seen you today?”, he asked, failing to be as subtle as he had intended.   </p>
<p>“Yeah. She was here earlier and said I might be discharged tomorrow afternoon”, Renee replied, and then took another bite of the bagel, as if that could prove she was fine.</p>
<p>“That’s great”, Larry said, feeling a mixture of relief and surprise. “Have you given any thought to where you want to go next?”</p>
<p>They both knew she couldn’t spend one extra second in New York. Vladimir was on the run, and his crew was behind bars, but they had many connections still around. She couldn’t prance around New York anymore without risking being seen by the wrong person.</p>
<p>“Yes, I did”, Renee said, with a nod. “After my mom died, I rented her house for a while, but it’s been empty for weeks. So, I’ll be moving there”  </p>
<p>Larry was immensely pleased to hear that, since that house was in Bethesda, close enough to the FBI’s DC field office. It meant there was a chance that she’d go back to work for him, after all. But it wasn’t the right time to discuss it, yet. “Great. If you need any help moving…”</p>
<p>“It’ll be fine”, she assured him with a smile. “I already spoke to Janis. She’ll help get the house ready for tomorrow afternoon”</p>
<p>“That’s good”, he said, although the idea of Renee being all alone in a 3-bedroom house, after her ordeal, made him feel uneasy. “Maybe she should stay with you for a little while”</p>
<p>“No need”, Renee blurted out, in an instant. “She offered. But I don’t need to. I’ll have everything I need, and they’ll install a new alarm system today. It’ll be just fine”   </p>
<p>“All right”. He knew how badly Renee needed to feel independent. The last thing he wanted was to upset her by implying that she couldn’t live on her own again. “By the way, Janis really wanted to be here. But I needed her to stay in the office”</p>
<p>“She told me”. Renee bit her lower lip, looking down. There was a burning question Janis had refused to answer, though. “Larry, won’t you get in trouble for being here?”    </p>
<p>Visibly uncomfortable, he pretended to misunderstand her question. “It’s fine. I brought some of my work with me, I have my cellphone, and I haven’t taken time off in ages, so…”</p>
<p>“I meant with Carla”, she interrupted him, not in the mood for nonsense. Knowing his wife, Larry was risking facing an epic jealous meltdown. “Is she angry? Did you have to lie to her? Where does she think you are?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about her”, he stated in a heartbeat. Before Renee could ask anything else about it, he rushed to change the subject. “Hey, you know who’d love to see you? My mom. She moved to Florida last year, but she’d be on the first plane if she knew…”</p>
<p>“I’ll speak to Zoe later”, Renee assured him hastily, unwilling to let him dodge the question about his wife. The way he’d been free to spend a few days in New York, by <em>her</em> bedside, seemed off. And she had noticed his ring was missing. “Seriously, Larry, what’s going on with you and Carla? What happened to your ring?”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know. I left it behind when I moved out”, he finally admitted, as Renee’s eyes widened in shock. “I’ve been divorced since February. Finalized, and everything”</p>
<p>“Divorced?!” she muttered in disbelief. Not just ‘separated’ or ‘on a break’, but divorced? She rested her back against the pillow, feeling beyond stunned. “I don’t get it. You said you <em>couldn’t</em> leave her… ever…. because you made a promise before God…”</p>
<p>“I remember what I said”, Larry cut her off, with more sharpness in his tone that he had intended. He already felt guilty enough, and had heard enough about God, sin and hell from Carla herself <em>and</em> Carla’s entire family. Not wanting to discuss the issue any longer, he stood up and threw away the empty coffee cups and bakery bags. “Look, Renee, we shouldn’t be talking about any of this now. We should focus just on your recovery”</p>
<p>“I want to talk about this now”, she demanded, as firmly as possible.</p>
<p>“And I’m telling you, this is a terrible time and place for <em>that </em>conversation”, he insisted, trying to be reasonable. Avoiding her gaze, he wiped off some crumbs from the table.</p>
<p>“Larry, please. Don’t you dare…”, Renee snapped, with an icy look. She tried to get up from the bed, but couldn’t without feeling pain. So she reluctantly remained siting up, with her back resting on the pillows. “Don’t tell me when or where to talk, or what I shouldn’t be talking about. I spent the last sixteen months with a man like that”     </p>
<p>The comparison was like a slap on his face. Feeling defeated, Larry sat again on the chair by the bed. “Fine. What else do you want to know?”</p>
<p>“Did Carla find out that we kissed? Is that why…?”. Renee was horrified to think that she <em>had </em>ruined Larry’s marriage forever, after all… for sixteen months she had believed her absence would help him fix it, that she had done <em>one</em> thing right. She didn’t need a divorce weighing on her conscience, on top of everything else.</p>
<p>“I <em>told her</em> that you and I kissed”, he clarified. Sure, he had acted very wrongly for a while, but he couldn’t hide the truth from Carla forever. He liked to believe he hadn’t sunk <em>that </em>low. “I had to tell her, Renee. The guilt was killing me”</p>
<p>“Why? It was just kissing”, she reminded him, with an exasperated sigh. “It meant nothing!”, she blurted out, without being truthful and regretting those words as soon as she said them. </p>
<p>Larry felt like a punch in his stomach was knocking all the air out of him. But he made an effort to hide how hurt he felt. “Well…” he cleared his throat, trying to speak with a steady, unemotional tone. “That <em>nothing </em>happened three times… it was very wrong, and since I was trying to be a better person, I had to be honest with her”</p>
<p>Renee looked down, at her own hands. “I never wanted to destroy your marriage”.     </p>
<p>“<em>You</em> didn’t”, he admitted. “After I told her everything, she still wanted to stay married. And I tried that for a little while, but it just didn’t work out”   </p>
<p>“Why not?”, she asked with a challenging tone.</p>
<p>“Because you were never the problem”, he affirmed, looking straight into her eyes. He let out a big sigh, full of resignation. Suddenly, the truth poured from his lips. “My marriage didn’t die because I fell in love with you… I fell in love with you because my marriage was always wrong, and it died before I met you”</p>
<p>“Damn it, Larry”, Renee muttered, under her breath, staring at him in disbelief. He was saying things she had prayed to hear for a long time, but it was now too late.   </p>
<p>“I’m sorry I didn’t see it any sooner”, he whispered, on the verge of tears as well, as if he could read in her mind: <em>Too little, too late</em>. “I’m so sorry. I never should have gone back to her that night. I never should have let you come to New York…”</p>
<p>“Let me?”, she cut him off, feeling angry with him again. Did he think <em>her</em> decision had been about him? That he had the power to stop her, if she truly wanted anything? “Larry, we went through this before I left”, she reminded him, now speaking more gently. “This was my choice, and it wasn’t about you. I didn’t <em>have</em> to go undercover with him, or anybody… and I certainly didn’t have to stay this long. I did all that for me. To complete a mission. I had to prove that I could do it, that I was strong enough. I did it for me”</p>
<p>“You think I don’t know that?”, Larry asked with his voice barely breaking, as he gently brushed off the tears that fell from her eyes with his fingertips. “Renee, I don’t regret going back to her because I think that’s what made you leave, or because I think that’s why you ended up here”. Trying not to break down completely, he tentatively cupped her hands with his. “I regret it because I missed you like crazy every single day… I regret it because you and I were really meant to be, and we threw that away for the wrong reasons…”</p>
<p>She was too overwhelmed to say anything. She caressed his cheek, and allowed him to lean closer, till his forehead was resting on hers. For a few seconds, both of them felt like people reaching the right destination, after being lost for far too long.  </p>
<p>“I love you and I’ve loved you since we first met, Renee Walker”, he whispered. To him, being able to finally say those words, felt like getting rid of a huge burden.   </p>
<p>Abruptly, she pushed him away and shook her head, as if trying to snap out of a spell. He was talking to a woman that didn’t truly exist anymore. The woman he loved, the one meant to be with him, was long dead. He just didn’t realize so yet.</p>
<p>“And what <em>the hell</em> do you expect me to do with all that <em>now</em>?!”, she asked him bitterly.</p>
<p>“Nothing”, he breathed out, backing away, shrugging slightly, with an obvious mix of despair and resignation. “Nothing at all”, he repeated, while standing up, to move even further away from her. He was hurt, but he hadn’t expected any different reaction from her. Not really. He knew admitting his feelings would be a mistake, but she had insisted, and the words had been trapped inside him for too long. “You asked questions, you wanted to talk about this… I had to tell you the truth. That’s it”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, Larry…”, she whispered, close to breaking down. “I just can’t… I can’t… I changed. Everything changed” Controlling the tears was becoming more and more difficult. “Toast can’t never be bread again”, she blurted out. Loud sobs then broke through her throat and tears flowed like a river, as she hid her face with her hands.</p>
<p>It was tearing him apart to watch her suffer. His instincts urged him to hold her, but he feared it could make matters even worse. Soon, he couldn’t take it anymore. He got closer and put his arms around her. While she cried loudly, hiding her head in his chest, he gently stroked her hair. “It’s okay”, he whispered several times, as he battled with his own tears.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry… I just can’t”, she sobbed.</p>
<p>“That’s fine”, he assured her, still holding her. “One thing didn’t change… I’m your friend. I’m here for you, if that’s okay” </p>
<p>Those words actually soothed her. “Okay”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 04th 2009</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because of hospital policy, Renee had to be taken from her room to the car in a wheelchair. A nurse wheeled her, while Larry walked by them, looking around for potential Russian threats, with his hand subtly near his concealed service gun. She wasn’t allowed to have her own service gun and badge back, yet… Not until she was finished with all the psychiatric evaluations, fitness tests and counselling that were standard after such a long undercover assignment. It made perfect sense, since she had two mental breakdowns in the last 72 hours, and needed to be high on painkillers to move without feeling crippling pain in her ribs, not to mention the strong cramping. She deplored feeling so vulnerable. But, at least, she’d be out of the hospital. She couldn’t wait to start regaining her independence. To regain control over her own body, and emotions. </p>
<p>Just when she was in the parking lot, about to get into Larry’s car, her ex Clayton surprisingly approached them saying: “Hold on, Red… I have something for you”, the doctor then looked at Larry, who was frowning. “Hey, buddy, do you mind…? This is kind of personal”</p>
<p>Larry looked at Renee, who nodded. So, he reluctantly moved further away, but keeping a vigilant eye on them.</p>
<p>“I wanted to return something of yours”, Clayton explained, handing her a very old book.   </p>
<p>She stared at its cover, in disbelief. It was a copy of ‘<em>The Crossroads of Time</em>’. It had been one of her father’s most treasured books. It was about a man named Blake Walker who traveled through several versions of the planet as it might have been, if history had gone differently. The first page had a note scribbled with green ink by Renee’s father, back in 1968: ‘<em>In this plane of existence, this book belongs to DENNIS WALKER</em>’.</p>
<p>Renee had looked for that book, like a crazy person, for a very long time. She looked back at Clayton, trying to hold back tears. “<em>You</em> had it for the last six years?”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, Red”, he said, looking deeply ashamed of himself. “When you left me, I was too bitter and angry… so, I stole it… and then I moved on, but I was too ashamed to admit I’d been so childish…”</p>
<p>“It’s okay. Don’t worry”, Renee reassured him, slowly getting up from the wheelchair. After everything she had gone through, anything regarding Clayton felt like ancient history, or even prehistory. But she was immensely relieved to have her dad’s book back. So relieved, that she gave her ex fiancé a hug. “I’m glad everything worked out for you”   </p>
<p>“You were right when you said I’d end up thanking you someday”, he admitted, believing his own prediction had been correct too… During their break-up, he had accused Renee of having ‘daddy issues’ and said she’d wind up with some older, blonde-haired, bright-eyed, authority figure, with a job in law enforcement or military. Clayton’s brown eyes shifted back from Larry’s distant scowl to Renee. “I guess what’s truly meant to be always finds a way of happening… in this plane of existence”, the doctor mused out loud. He winked at her, before rushing back to his work.</p>
<p>Renee still believed in the notions of ‘meant to be’, fate, destiny. But was struggling to figure what hers was. Something that once had been so clear in her mind, now felt uncertain. The strong woman who had been born to become Agent Walker, the one ‘<em>meant to be</em>’ with Larry, appeared to be gone for good.   </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Bethesda, Maryland</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After arriving to Renee’s house, four hours later, Larry made sure it was secured and she had everything she might need. Then he left, as promised, without bringing up any personal feelings again. Once alone, Renee looked inside some of boxes with personal effects that Janis had brought in from the storage.</p>
<p>She nearly teared up when she came across yet another book that had a big impact her life: <em>“Life as Gloria Bruzzone: my 18 months undercover in Dante Aprile’s crime family</em>”, by Zoe Gianna Moss. The book written in 2002, thirty years after the facts, made no mention of sexual assault, or any improper relation between Zoe and her target. It described a very sanitized, FBI-approved, version of that undercover mission. But Renee had always suspected the truth, deep down. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest, when Zoe told her the full story, in strict confidence. And, yet… meeting Zoe Moss and reading that book had been the last push Renee had needed to join the FBI.    </p>
<p>The box also had two framed degrees with Renee’s name: <em>B. A. in Russian language and culture, from Columbia University,</em> and <em>M.A. in Russian and Slavic studies, from NYU</em>.</p>
<p>There was also a photo album with several pictures taken during her time working for the American embassy in Moscow. After breaking up with Clayton, right before joining the FBI.</p>
<p>Unexpectedly, a very old black and white photo fell from the album. That photo had also been taken in Russia… but in 1916. It showed a fancy-looking couple with a tiny infant, posing for a family portrait. The baby was Irina Zadan. Her parents would be murdered a few months after that picture was taken. She’d be, somehow, rescued from the turmoil in her homeland, to be raised in England and never return. She’d grow up to be a beauty and marry one Albert Walker. They’d move to America, where he’d make a fortune and she’d start going by Irene. She’d die too young, never getting to know her grandchildren, never envisioning that her story would fascinate and intrigue her great-granddaughter very much.</p>
<p>So, perhaps, Zoe was right… Perhaps Renee’s entire life had been a preparation for her undercover assignment. But, as she put on her nightgown, and spotted the small red rose tattooed in the middle of her chest, symbol of her acceptance into a Russian crime ring, she couldn’t help but wonder… what if <em>that </em>had been preparation for something else? Could it be that it had all been just training for something bigger? What if the last sixteen months hadn’t truly been the worst of her life?</p>
<p>Renee tried to get rid of those terrifying thoughts immediately.</p>
<p>She took a painkiller before getting into bed. The instructions scribbled by the doctor said only one pill every six hours, or, maybe, only if truly needed, two pills before bedtime. But Renee was too tired of her mind racing. She felt an exhausting emotional pain, and more guilt inside her than anybody could ever carry. So, she took four pills of Percocet.  </p>
<p>She left her bed in the middle of the night. Strangely, nothing in her body hurt anymore. Her eye was not bruised. Her lip was not cut. And her hair was shorter, back to its natural light-auburn shade. Moved by an impulse, she made her way downstairs, till she reached the kitchen. She was shocked to see her father making pancakes, while wearing his combat United States Marine corps uniform. Major Dennis Walker looked exactly like the last time she’d seen him. Young. Strong. Blonde hair and piercing aquamarine eyes.</p>
<p>“Daddy?”</p>
<p>“Oh, hi, Princess…”, he greeted, with a charming smile.</p>
<p>“How high am I?”, she wondered if the Percocet was causing this odd dream she was having. She didn’t even dare to hug her dad, in case that made him disappear.</p>
<p>“I dunno”, Dennis replied, while smoothly turning the pancake over in the air, with a quick movement of his wrist. “But I’ll allow it… this once, since you had a pretty rough year”.    </p>
<p>“Pretty rough doesn’t even begin to describe it”, she said, with her eyes beginning to moist.</p>
<p>“Yeah”, Dennis agreed, placing two plates with pancakes over the large blue breakfast island. His copy of ‘<em>The Crossroads of Time’</em> was also on top of it.</p>
<p>Renee picked the book up. “I was obsessed with this book for such a long time… Must have read it hundredths of times. I kept picturing a world where you didn’t die, wondering what would be different…” </p>
<p>“Well…” her dad shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, some people believe there <em>really</em> <em>is</em> an infinite number of universes, and everything that can happen, does happen… somewhere”</p>
<p>But Renee shook her head, not feeling comforted by that notion anymore. She finally dared to hug her father and melted down in loud sobs.</p>
<p>“then how about this…?”, Dennis spoke, while gently stroking her hair, like he used to do when she was five. “<em>This</em> life, the only one you get, is not over for you… not yet. You are still breathing, still alive. You get to wake up tomorrow and figure out the next steps”.</p>
<p>“It’s not so easy”, she admitted, between sobs.</p>
<p>“It’s extremely difficult”, her father agreed. “But you have so much going for you… You are courageous, smart, strong… and you could finally have the man you’ve loved for the last four years…”</p>
<p>She shook her head, and moved away. “Thank you. But I don’t need a man”     </p>
<p>“I didn’t say you <em>need</em> a man”, Dennis clarified. “I said <em>could</em> have one you love, and loves you back, if you chose to. Love can be very powerful and healing. I guess you never noticed, but I depended on your mother, quite a lot”</p>
<p>“I obviously noticed, since you are not really here, you are a manifestation of my subconscious”, Renee pointed out smoothly.</p>
<p>“Smart girl”, her dad smirked with pride. But then his grin faded. “How come you’re too stupid to accept true love?” </p>
<p>“Because Larry doesn’t love <em>me</em>!”, she snapped, nearly weeping out of deep frustration. “He loves a version of me that only exists in his head. And if he ever saw the real me, if he saw the person I really am, it’d break his heart, and he’d hate me, and that’d break <em>my</em> heart. I want someone who can love me just the way that I am”</p>
<p>“Why do you think he won’t love you just as you really are?”, her father asked, looking very disappointed. “You’ll never know for sure if you just keep a wall between you two”   </p>
<p>“Maybe I’m just too scared to find out”, Renee admitted softly, feeling ashamed of herself.</p>
<p>“You’re smarter, and much braver, than that, princess”, Dennis scolded her, with the same tone he had used when she was six years old. “You know that the day will come when he’ll see everything you want to hide… the wounds, the darkness, the burden... Eventually it’ll all come up to the surface. It could happen tomorrow, or in six years from now. But it will happen. And, after that inevitable day, you <em>will</em> find out how he really feels… unless, of course, that’s also the day <em>this</em> existence is over for either one of you”</p>
<p>Renee stared at her dad, horrified by that thought. “Oh”</p>
<p>Feeling his job was done, Dennis grabbed his green army jacket, before walking way and disappearing.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>June 15th 2009</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Wakefield, Washington DC. </strong>
</p>
<p>Renee was jogging down the streets of the nation’s capital, under a stunning full moon. It was nearly two am, but she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t want to. She was too tired… tired of the nightmares full of blood, and the dreams with strange messages. At least, she had stopped taking the painkillers. Six weeks after the abrupt end of her undercover mission, she didn’t need them anymore. Her body was, nearly, back to normal. But her mind was a different story. The only thing that helped her was to go out for a long run.</p>
<p>Without even thinking about it, she ended up in front of Larry’s apartment. She didn’t have any plan in her mind. But she wanted badly to see him, to talk to him. She took a deep breath, gathering all her courage, and rang the doorbell. He opened the door faster than she had expected that late at night, wearing an old <em>‘The Washington Wizards</em>’ t-shirt.</p>
<p>“Hey”, he was shocked to see her, standing on his doorstep, in the middle of the night. Her sporty tank top, shorts and matching headband told him that she had gone out for a jog at 2 AM, which was alarming. Her FBI therapist had written a very positive report, and deemed her fit to go back to duty. But it was painfully obvious that she was still struggling.</p>
<p>“Hey. I’m sorry to come over this late”, she apologized timidly, as he stepped away, to let her walk in. It was merely a studio. A kitchenette, a bookcase, a desk with a computer, a small table with a two-seater sofa in front of a TV, and a queen size bed… all somewhat crammed in 450 square feet. She was a bit thrown aback by how small his apartment was.</p>
<p>“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway”, he reassured her. He had promised to be her friend, and she needed one. “I’d offer you a tour of the apartment, but, well… this is pretty much it” They both chuckled. “Would you like anything to drink?”</p>
<p>“You have a good Scotch?”. She felt restless, anxious, and wanted those feelings to go away.</p>
<p>“I think I might”, Larry began searching inside his kitchen cabinets.   </p>
<p>As she paced around the studio, Renee noticed a few framed family photos of Larry with his mom and his long-departed grandmother, and a photo of a 16-year-old Larry posing happily with the other members of his high school basketball team, as large medals hung from the boys’ necks. There were also two old vinyl records framed and displayed on a wall: <em>Rumours</em>, by Fleetwood Mac and <em>Nimrod</em>, by Green Day. It put a small smile on her face. She was liking to finally see the place where Larry lived.</p>
<p>“So, when did you move here?”, she asked.</p>
<p>“Right after I left Carla”, he said awkwardly, still looking for the alcohol. “Over a year ago”</p>
<p>Renee silently sat on the sofa, looking down. Now feeling like an anvil made of guilt hit her in the head. Clearly, the financial cost of the divorce was the reason why he couldn’t afford a bigger, fancier, place.</p>
<p>He finally found a large bottle of Glenlivet single malt whisky, still full. “Here it is” He took two glasses and poured some of the whisky in them. “So, did you run here from your house? That’s 3 miles”. He tried to sound casual about it, like it didn’t worry him that she had run for an hour, that late, right after recovering from five broken ribs.</p>
<p>“I just couldn’t sleep”, she shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. She watched him put some ice and lemon in her whisky, remembering the exact way she preferred it. She sighed, realising she had to go straight to the point. “Larry, I met with the human resources director. They want me to go back to the DC field office, and they even offered me a promotion”</p>
<p>“Yeah. They obviously asked me before talking to you”, he admitted, handing Renee her drink. “I told them you deserve it”</p>
<p>“Larry, you know I don’t”. Her voice was nearly breaking and she sounded almost like a lost child. She stared down at the ice in the glass, feeling uncomfortable. “Agent Lundy only recommended me because he feels guilty… HR wants to cover-up that things got out of hand… and they don’t even know half of it”</p>
<p>“We all know that an arm-trafficking ring is down because of you”, Larry reminded her, for the tenth time in the last month. Watching her so insecure and so full of self-loathe was upsetting him. He recalled too clearly the time before that dammed assignment, when she was the exact opposite. “Several criminals are in jail and their leader is on the run, he can’t work, or even show his face, in this country anymore” as he spoke, he sat on the chair by his desk, as far away from her as possible.</p>
<p>“But I sold my soul to earn his trust…”, she pointed out bitterly, before drinking half the whisky on her glass. “You always said that the problem with adapting to your enemy, is that you end up being as bad as they are, and that’s how they win”. </p>
<p>“I know”, he admitted, looking down to his own glass, feeling guilty that his own words were causing her pain. “But there’s no other choice during an undercover assignment… your case officer expected certain results from you. And your life was in danger. It’s very different”   </p>
<p>“Doesn’t feel that different to me”, she argued, shaking her head, stubbornly. “I became one of them… How can I possibly pick up my badge again after that? I’m not sure I belong in the FBI anymore”, she wondered out loud, with a shrug. Then she finished her whisky, with one long swallow. “As I said… toast can’t never be bread again”.</p>
<p>“But <em>he’</em>s toast… you’re not”, Larry claimed, sounding too desperate. He couldn’t bear to watch so much pain in her eyes. Like many times since her return, he was urging to touch her or hold her, to offer some comfort, but forced himself to remain distant. “Renee, you can pick up your badge again, <em>proudly</em>, because <em>that badge</em> represents who you really are… you are not your sixteen months undercover. That wasn’t you”   </p>
<p>She appreciated his intentions, but she was full of doubt. She felt he was being too naïve, and holding on to his fantasy of who she was. “Maybe it was. You don’t really know me”</p>
<p>“I know your conscience’s been keeping you awake”, he replied in a heartbeat. “That has to mean something”</p>
<p>“Maybe it just means I drink too much coffee during the day”, she only half-joked.</p>
<p>“Yeah…”, Larry shrugged dismissively. “that’s also why I’m awake… coffee”, he obviously lied, with a tiny smirk. They locked eyes, remaining silent for a moment. He noticed her hair was back to its light-auburn shade, rather than black-cherry red. He knew her well enough to recognize that change as positive sign. He believed in the Renee Walker he had always seen with his own eyes, in the better angels of her nature. “By the way, I bought you something to celebrate your return to the office”, he suddenly remembered, and went to look for a gift bag inside his closet.</p>
<p>“Oh, you shouldn’t have”, Renee mumbled, feeling surprised. “I haven’t even accepted the promotion yet”</p>
<p>“Say I’m an optimist”, Larry shrugged and handed her the bag. He was glad to see a small smile on her face when she saw a steel travel mug with the American flag. “I know you like to have your coffee in your car, on your way to work…”</p>
<p>“True. Thank you”, she nodded, feeling too close to tearing up, over something so small and simple. How could someone who knew her so well could, at the same time, be so clueless about who she really was? She could see in his eyes how much he cared. But, beyond any personal attraction, he had always valued and respected her work. When he praised her as an FBI agent, he really meant it. The idea of losing such admiration was too unbearable. Right then, she didn’t have many good things to hold on to… and starting a romantic relationship, exposing her true colours to him, could destroy what she had.</p>
<p>“Larry”, she finally whispered, with her voice nearly breaking. “This is never going to work”</p>
<p>He knew what she meant. He’d been expecting a very hurtful ‘<em>You love me, but I don’t love you, so I can’t work for you again</em>’ speech from her. Yet, he played dumb, in a very lame attempt to delay his own heartbreak. “Sure, it’ll work”, he said, taking the travel mug and examining it, like it was the most fascinating item in the room. “Keeps the drink hot for five hours. They removed the air between the metal layers, so the coffee can’t transfer heat to the cooler air surrounding it.”</p>
<p>Renee took the mug back from his hands, put it over the table and shook her head. “That’s not what I’m talking about”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I didn’t think so”, Larry sighed, with resignation. He was a 36-year-old man who had become the youngest Assistant Director in the history of the FBI NY office, at the age of 31, and then gotten a very-very coveted transfer to the DC field office. That hadn’t happened without getting himself into extremely dangerous situations, many times, without blinking or hesitating. Why was he so terrified of facing, yet another, rejection from her?     </p>
<p>“Back at the hospital, you said things about your feelings…”, she began speaking, not even knowing where she was going with this conversation. Full confession of her own very complicated emotions and fears? The idea made her overly anxious.  She paced back and forth between the kitchenette and the sofa, as her hands clasped and unclasped each other.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it”, Larry interrupted her hastily, before she could say anything that would hurt him any deeper. “Listen, I’m sorry. I know I really messed everything up before... Not just at the hospital, but before you left to New York… <em>especially </em>then.”, as he spoke, he sat on the sofa, hiding his head between his hands, feeling ashamed of himself. “I was married, and I was your boss… my behavior was unacceptable, very bad on so many levels”. He then looked directly at her, with a very serious expression. “I was too emotional, I let my feelings control me, and I really hated that”. He shook his head, in a disapproving gesture, aimed at himself. He could count with a single hand the moments in his adult life when his feelings had overpowered him, escaped to the surface when he wished to hide them. And all those rare moments had involved Renee. “Won’t happen again” </p>
<p>“Larry, it’s not like your feelings were one-sided. Far from it”, she reminded him with a gentle tone, tentatively making a few steps towards him.  </p>
<p>“I know”, he sighed. He was very aware that, at one point, she had wanted him… back when he was still married. His inappropriate feelings for her had once been reciprocated, with equal intensity. But Renee kept saying that everything was different now. Now that he was free, she was clearly no longer interested. Her feelings were gone… or ‘toast’. Such a heart-breaking irony he was obliged to accept. “But you don’t feel the same anymore, and I get it. You just want to work for me and be friends. Everything else is off the table”. He headed to the fridge, to look for a non-alcoholic beverage. Having another scotch around her would be a terrible idea, since alcohol had also played a role in his past mistakes. “So, rest assured I’ll always respect that. I swear I won’t cross any line, ever again”</p>
<p>She trusted he would keep that promise forever, because now he believed she was uninterested. And, to him, her wishes made all the difference in the world. It suddenly became clear to Renee that, right there and then, she had two options… she could accept the easy way out he was offering, just work for him and be friends. Or… she could take a massive risk and be with the man she had loved for the past four years.  </p>
<p>“Larry, may I use your bathroom for a moment?”, she asked, not showing any emotion, but having made a decision. “I need to freshen up”  </p>
<p>“Sure. Right there”, he said, pointing a door by the bookcase.</p>
<p>Renee nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. Larry heard the shower running, but considering it was 80 °F outside (26°C) and she had been running for an hour, he didn’t read much into it. Yet, she later reemerged before him wearing only his blue bathroom robe, the front of which was half-opened, exposing her cleavage.</p>
<p>Larry’s eyes widened. He nearly dropped the can of soda that was half-way to his mouth, but made his best to appear unfazed. “Renee, what about that line we were just talking about?”</p>
<p>She smirked while dimming the lights of the room, and began to slowly walk towards him. “I decided I don’t want to just work for you and be friends. I’d also like to try…” She raised an eyebrow. “everything else”  </p>
<p>“I’ve always loved your ambition”, he whispered in her ear, enjoying the way she put her hands underneath his t-shirt, to caress his chest. He ran his hands through her hair and back, looking at her in the eye. “You’re really sure about this?”.</p>
<p>Renee’s answer was to stand on her tiptoes, and gently brush her lips against his.</p>
<p>It wasn’t their first kiss. Except, this time, kissing would take them somewhere brand new… somewhere they had only ever visited together in their fantasies.</p>
<p>They had no idea what the future would bring, but something, somehow, became clear as they shared the bed for the first time… they were heading towards a place they’d never been with anybody else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>To be continued… </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Under Their God</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In 2011, the world is plagued with infertility, Christian extremism is on the rise, Larry and Renee’s first wedding anniversary brings the biggest surprise, and a female senator launches a book that could be prophetic in ways nobody even imagines…<br/>In 2013, after a series of terrorist attacks, Christian extremists have taken over the government. Larry and Renee realize it’s time to leave the country, but it might be too late.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! Sorry this took long to write. And it's a very long chapter. I wanted to get out of the way more background and exposition about US politics in this universe, the takeover and the Sons of Jacob. I hope you enjoy it. Please, looking forward to any feedback. I'd love some comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>June 3rd 2011</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Bethesda, Maryland</strong>
</p><p>The first thing to strike Renee’s senses as she woke up was a strong sweet aroma. She turned on her bedside lamp and looked around. She was surprised by five massive bouquets of red roses around her bedroom. The one nearest to her, over her nightstand, had a note:</p><p>‘<em>One rose for each day of our marriage. The best 365 days of my entire life. Happy Anniversary. Love you, always. Larry’</em>.</p><p>Her smile reached her blue eyes, as she wandered around the bedroom, caressing the petals of the roses… 73 in each bouquet, for a grand total of 365. Carnations were the symbol of a first wedding anniversaries, but Larry always gave her red American beauty roses on special occasions, because he claimed they made him think of her. And because it represented Washington DC, where they had met. </p><p>She was thrilled to hear the shower still running in the adjoining bathroom. Very quickly, she got undressed and sneaked behind him in the shower, whispering: “May I join you?”.</p><p>With a delighted grin, he turned around to face her. “Darling, if I ever say ‘no’ to that question, just shoot me in the head”</p><p>They savoured each other, as the hot water ran through their bodies, appreciating how precious and rare a moment like that was amid their busy lives. </p><p> </p><p>Before long, the dawn shined through the main bedroom’s window, and the couple was fully dressed in their business suits.</p><p>“You look so handsome, Agent Moss”, she said, while straightening Larry’s favorite burgundy tie, making sure it looked perfect. “But there’s one little thing missing”</p><p>“Oh, really?”, Larry smirked, figuring it’d be an anniversary surprise. He followed her closely to her drawer, keeping his arms around her waist and taking in the lavender perfume from her hair. She gave him a gift bag with a card saying: <em>‘I’ve been the luckiest woman in the world for 365 days, 8760 hours, 525,600 minutes and 31,536,000 seconds…. Happy Anniversary, my love’</em>. Inside, there was a beautiful golden wristwatch, with a personal engraving on the back: ‘<em>I love you 'till the end- L&amp;R June 3rd’</em>.</p><p>“Thank you. This is so wonderful”, he felt so deeply moved, that his voice was barely a broken whisper while she helped put the watch on his wrist. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. His mind went back to their first dance as husband and wife. Renee looking stunning in a long pale-green dress, as they spun in delicate circles to the song ‘<em>Love you till the end’</em> by the Pogues. Her beauty and the music had made everything else magically fade away.</p><p>
  <em>I just want to see you when you're all alone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just want to catch you if I can</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just want to be there when the morning light explodes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>On your face it radiates,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I can't escape… I love you 'till the end</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just want to tell you nothing you don't want to hear</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All I want is for you to say: "Oh, why don't you just take me where I've never been before?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know you want to hear me catch my breath</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I love you 'till the end</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I love you 'till the end</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I love you 'till the end</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Having no time to sit down for breakfast, they grabbed two bags with pastries to eat on the go. Larry noticed that, instead of her usual travel mug full of black coffee, she was carrying a big bottle of orange juice.</p><p>“I’ll meet you directly at the Senator’s office”, Renee said, as they walked into their two-car garage. “They’re not expecting us till 8.30, so I’ll follow up on a lead first”. Such lie came from her mouth quite awkwardly. She hated lying to Larry and keeping secrets from him, which was why she was so bad at it. But she was only trying to protect him.</p><p>“Okay”, he said, rather skeptically. He observed her driving away, now with some concern. She was lying about ‘<em>a lead’</em>, and her coffee intake had dropped drastically in the last two weeks. Also, a bottle of single malt scotch remained unopened in their cabinet, after being there for a long time. He thought that was all somewhat strange, but had no time to dwell on any of it. They had a long and demanding day ahead.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Washington DC. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>At 8.12 AM, Renee walked out GW University Hospital feeling in a daze. She sat behind the steering wheel of her car, overwhelmed by several diverse emotions. So much to process. She began laughing and crying at once. Until she was startled by her phone ringing, as Larry’s name popped up on the screen. She managed to compose herself and answer, without showing emotions.</p><p>“Hey, Larry”</p><p>“Are you near the senate?”, he asked hastily, while parking his vehicle in front of a building with a sign: ‘<em>U.S. Secret Service Headquarters’</em>.</p><p>“Five minutes away”, she assured him, noticing he was in full ‘agent mode’. It was time to focus on work till the end of the day. She’d have to drop the metaphorical bombshell on him that night, after the senator’s function.  </p><p>“You’ll have to meet the senator on your own. I was summoned to Secret Service headquarters, to discuss the security protocols for this evening’s thing” </p><p>“Why is Secret Service involved with that?”. She raised her eyebrows, alarmed. She got her car started, putting her husband’s call on speaker.</p><p>“David Palmer decided to attend”, Larry explained, while showing his FBI badge to a security guard, before entering the building. “I have to brief his security team”</p><p>“Isn’t he aware of the threats?”</p><p>“I called him myself to explain the threat, but he still wants to be there”. In Larry’s voice, there was mixture of concern and admiration for the former President. “And he made a joke about threats being part of his breakfast”</p><p>“All right. Don’t worry. Brief secret service, and I’ll meet the senator”</p><p>After hanging up, Renee’s vehicle was filled with the strident voice of Serena Joy Waterford coming from the radio. Serena Joy was one hardcore Christian-right activist, a published writer, a public-speaker… whose ideas were as fascistic as ideas could get, and whose popularity had increased after surviving an assassination attempt by left-wing activists.</p><p>‘<em>Women must embrace their biological destiny. Remember our real purpose! It’s about surviving. Late-miscarriages and still-births are becoming more frequent every year.</em>’</p><p>Suddenly, Renee had to pull over the car, as a strong nausea overpowered her. She couldn’t avoid puking on the side of the road.</p><p>“Damn it”, she mumbled. It was the worst time for being sick. She had an important meeting soon. But she was well-prepared for such contrivance, and kept a small mouthwash, with a travel toothbrush and toothpaste case, in her glove compartment.</p><p>She spotted a Starbucks across the street and quickly used their bathroom to get cleaned up, after purchasing a random item.</p><p>After brushing her teeth, and reapplying her favorite soft-pink lipstick, she could feel like a professional woman again, rather than a baby-making machine.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Dirksen Senate Office Building</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Renee’s rapid steps echoed around the grey hallways of Dirksen Senate Office building, until she finally reached room 359. It had a black and gold plaque by the door saying:</p><p>
  <em>Senator</em>
</p><p>
  <em>ALLISON TAYLOR.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Tennessee</em>
</p><p>
  <em>SR359.</em>
</p><p>She knocked on the door, feeling a bit nervous. She had never met the junior senator for Tennessee in person before, but had heard her speak on C-SPAN, read everything about her, and found her truly fascinating. Even Larry, a man who had never voted for a republican in his life, admitted he would be open to making an exception, if Allison Taylor ever ran for President of the US.</p><p>The agent was soon welcomed into the office by Allison’s teenage daughter, Livy Taylor, who easily guessed: “You must be with the FBI”.   </p><p>“Yes”, Renee confirmed, showing her badge. She was impressed by how serious and mature the 16-year-old girl seemed, for someone that young. “I’m Agent Walker-Moss. I have a meeting with the senator about this evening”</p><p>Livy nodded, and invited her through the door, which led to a workplace area outside the actual office. “My mom…” She mentally chastised herself for referring to Allison as ‘<em>my mom</em>’ in such professional setting. It was the first week of Livy’s summer internship and the ambitious high-school student was still getting used to working for her own mother. But she instantly corrected herself. “<em>The senator</em> is finishing a meeting with her senior staff. It won’t take long. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”   </p><p>“I’m fine. Thank you, Ms. Taylor”, Renee said with a grin, while she looked the area outside Allison’s office. There was a couch, a chair and coffee table. And three big desks for the senator’s staff. The walls were decorated with a big map of Tennessee and photos of that state’s main attractions such as the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Graceland and the Country Music Hall of Fame.</p><p>The teenager quickly went back to working on a laptop. “Are you here about yesterday?”, she then asked the agent.</p><p>“We take threats like these very seriously”, Renee replied vaguely, since she wasn’t allowed to discuss the details of her ongoing investigation with the teenager.</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it <em>a threat</em>”, Livy said, rolling her eyes. Somebody had sent a package to her house containing several rubber fetus-dolls covered in fake-blood, with a note saying her entire family would go to hell for ‘<em>killing the unborn</em>’. It had been disturbing. But young Livy was not scared. “My mom has been getting stuff like that everyday since she announced she’ll vote against the national abortion ban. And we’ve been getting protesters outside our house…” Livy’s expression then became angry. “…even outside our Nashville house last week, while we there <em>for my grandpa’s funeral…</em>”</p><p>“And that’s appalling… to bother your family at a time like that”, Renee said, to show her support. She had read about Allison’s dad passing away recently, due to progressive Multiple Sclerosis complications. “I’m sorry you went through that”   </p><p>“Thanks. But I know how this goes by now…”, Livy said, with a resigned shrug. “Nothing can be done because of the First amendment”.</p><p>Then, the door leading to Allison’s office was opened, and several staff members emerged, prepared to continue their tasks.  </p><p>“Agent Walker-Moss from the FBI is here”, Livy announced.</p><p>Allison appeared momentarily thrown aback, but greeted Renee warmly with a handshake, even introducing herself saying “Hello. I’m Senator Taylor”, as if her face hadn’t been regularly on the news for the last few months.</p><p>The agent was charmed by how down-to-earth Allison appeared. “It’s nice to meet you, Senator. And I’m sorry about your dad”. A fellow woman losing a father still moved Renee in a special way, even if everyone involved was a stranger.</p><p>“Thank you”, the Senator said, looking briefly saddened. But she was quick to put on a polite grin again, while introducing a middle-aged, brown-haired woman by her side. “And this is my Communications Director, Angie Nelson. And I think you’ve already met my Chief of Staff, Ethan Kanin”</p><p>“He’s been around the FBI office, once or twice”, Renee understated, as they shook hands, barely containing a little smirk. Given that Ethan had brought the original threats to the FBI’s attention in the first place, and appeared very concerned with the progress of the investigation, Renee and Larry had seen, or heard, a lot of Ethan in the past few months.</p><p>“Agent Walker-Moss has been in charge of the team conducting the investigation”, he then explained for Allison and Angie’s benefit. “But we wanted to speak about this evening with Larry Moss as well, since he’s the head of the FBI office”</p><p>“I’m afraid he was summoned to Secret Service Headquarters”, Renee explained.</p><p>“Right. Because David Palmer RSVPed last night, so now they want to have a hand in securing the party”, Allison then guessed, with an understanding nod. “That’s okay. We’re happy to talk to you”</p><p>They walked into the Senator’s small office, which was far messier than the outer area, with tons of paperwork and notes scattered everywhere. Renee could tell this was the place where most of the hard work actually got done, while the outer workspace was mainly for meetings and photo-ops. The office was also where the senator kept three framed diplomas with her name: a BA in Government from Georgetown University, an M.A in Middle Eastern Studies from Tel Aviv University and a Phd in Public Policy from Oxford University.</p><p>But Renee’s gaze was drawn to a very old photo of a 10-year-old Allison holding a bible as her late father, Roderick Hunter, raised his right hand and was sworn in as US. Senator by then VP. Hubert Humphrey. A photo taken 39 years later, on the same spot, showed Roderick holding that exact same bible, looking old and very emotional…  as his ‘little princess’, now a middle-aged woman, was sworn into the US senate by VP. Jim Prescott. His health complications had forced Roderick to quit politics in the year 2000, handing the elections to his opponent. Only for his daughter to win back the seat in 2008.</p><p>Allison’s lips curbed into a bittersweet smile, as she noticed Renee looking at the photos. “Is your father still alive?”   </p><p>“No”, Renee shook her head, confused by why the senator wanted to know that.</p><p>“Then you understand that, right now, all I’d like to do is take time to mourn properly”, the senator explained sadly brushing the photo with her fingers, before taking a seat behind her desk. “If I’m going through with launching my book this evening, it’s only because the message I need to send is too important. Now more than ever”</p><p>“I definitely understand that”, Renee assured her, sitting in front of the senator. She was only failing to understand why the senator felt the need for such clarification.</p><p>Finally, it was Angie Nelson who went directly to the point: “We are worried that having FBI presence at what’s supposed to be a simple book-launching party, will ruin our message”</p><p>“Ruin it how?”, Renee asked, growing alarmed. Since it was Allison’s private party, they needed her authorization to have an FBI team present. Now looking at Ethan, who was scoffing and rolling his eyes, as if had been disagreeing with Angie on that matter. He shrugged and lifted his hands in surrender, as if saying ‘<em>I don’t agree, but what can I do?</em>’.</p><p>“The media would present things in the worst possible light”, Angie tried to explain. “Instead of talking about women’s rights, or separation between church and state…”</p><p>“It’ll be all about how I overreacted, and the FBI was called because some Evangelicals were picking on me”, Allison added, giving Ethan a pointed look. “I’ll look like a drama Queen, at best, or a wanna-be tyrant who hates religion, at worse…”</p><p>“Senator, with all due respect…” Renee interrupted, in the nicest possible tone, but growing desperate. “This isn’t just about you. <em>Every </em>senator who has publicly opposed Proposition 37 has been threatened or suffering from serious cyberbullying or cyberstalking. And, one of our analysts infiltrated one of their groups and caught these worrisome comments… about you, Senators Blaine Mayer, Richard Horton, James Gilbert, Monica Addison and Harriet Wakefield”. Renee took a sheet of paper from her folder and showed it to Allison. “All of them, guests at your party. And there’s mention of the Palmers as well”  </p><p>Renee had printed screenshots of the conversations in question, and showed one of them as example:     </p><p><em>-LifeDefender23</em>- : <em>The biggest baby-murderers in the country: Pussy Blaine, Crazy Mon, Dirty Harriet, No-good Rich and Gilbert… will all be in that party celebrating Taylor’s diabolic book. All in the same room! You thinking what I’m thinking? </em><em>😉</em></p><p>
  <em>-LoveJesus77- : I know! If only me and my buddies could break in with all our Ar-15s. We’d save so many unborn lives… </em>
  <em>😊 In Jesus’s name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-RedPillVet- I was in the army. I could teach anyone to make cell phone IEDs like the Afghans… Just saying. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  -LifeDefender23- : We’d be saving this country! All those chemicals and radiation made most of us barren! But those libtards still want birth control pills, and abortions… Just because they like orgies and casual hook-ups! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-TheTransformedWife- It’s sickening! All those whores rejecting their precious children! How dare they? Feminism has championed birth control, leading to the slaughtering of millions of unborn babies. Sex has been completely separated from procreation!! HOW DARE THEY? Babies are gifts and blessings from God!!! That bitch Taylor should know that! She had two children! But, well, she never loved them… she dumped them with strangers all their lives, so she could have a career! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>-LoveJesus77- : Wanna bet she’d value them if they were dead?</em>
</p><p><em>  -</em> <em>RedPillVet-: they will all be at that stupid party… just saying. </em><em>😉</em></p><p> </p><p>Allison cringed when she read the part about her children. She did her best to hide emotions, but her hand was shaking slightly when she took off her reading glasses and handed the paper to Ethan.</p><p>“There’s more”, Renee said, in her softest, more compassionate tone. “Our top analyst found thirty pages worth of similarly aggressive conversations in the last two weeks, in Reddit, Facebook…”</p><p>“I don’t need to see more”, Allison declared, feeling deflated, but trying not to panic.</p><p>Ethan had been the first one to feel deeply worried, but after reading their ramblings he now felt those people were too ridiculous to be taken so seriously. “This is all disgusting, but…  <em>LifeDefender23</em>? <em>LoveJesus77</em>? and <em>RedPillVet</em>? It all seems some sort of sick joke”</p><p>“That’s exactly what they claimed when they were questioned”, Renee said, with a nod. “After weeding out all the sock puppets and the trolls…”</p><p>“I’m sorry… sock puppets and trolls?”, Allison interrupted, looking at the younger women in the room, searching for guidance. </p><p>“In the internet world, sock puppets are false identities controlled by some unknown entity, and trolls are people just looking to stir up argument for fun, annoying but harmless”, Angie quickly clarified for her boss. </p><p>“After weeding those out, we ended up looking into forty-five individuals who worried us for their extreme views”, Renee continued explaining. “But they claimed they were only joking, using their constitutional right to express themselves, venting, etc… and we couldn’t prove otherwise. They didn’t seem like a serious threat”</p><p>“Oh, okay. Good”, Ethan sighed with massive relief.</p><p>But Allison raised an eyebrow, skeptically, realizing there was more to it. “So, why are you still worried about my party?”</p><p>“Well…”, Renee said, getting more printed material from her folder. “When we investigated all those people, a few patterns emerged… they’re mainly white evangelicals from different denominations, different cities, ages, professions, social status… the <em>one </em>thing they all had in common was this…”. She showed them brochures with the words ‘<em>Sons of Jacob’</em>, with an eagle carrying an olive branch under a sun burst. “They all seemed unofficially affiliated with The Sons of Jacob”</p><p>“I’m obviously familiar with them”, Allison nodded, unsurprised by the revelation. The Sons of Jacob were a prominent ultraconservative, religious group, of quasi-Protestant Christian denomination, formed in response to the dire infertility crisis. They were one of the main subjects in her book, which was about the dangers of Christian extremism. She had all the information available about them, which didn’t mean much. Serena Joy Waterford was their loudest voice and most visible face. But even she refused to identify herself as the face of the cult. It was a movement without official leaders. They were just a symbol in some pamphlets. They were dangerous thoughts spreading around the country, like a phantom.</p><p>“Agent Moss and I believe the Sons of Jacob could represent a serious domestic threat”, Renee explained. “But because the group is heavily protected by the first amendment, we can only go so far with our investigation…”</p><p>“Before being authorized to use wiretaps or undercover agents you need to prove Imminent Lawless Action”, Ethan guessed. If they proved that The Sons of Jacob’s ‘<em>speech</em>’ was not protected, because its goal was to incite an <em>imminent and likely</em> violation of the law, the entire movement could be investigated even further by intelligence agencies. </p><p>“And that’s where we’re failing”, Renee admitted, defeated.</p><p>“Agent Walker-Moss, I’m going to save you a lot of time”, Allison declared, while getting up and looking up inside a cabinet for her own material about The Sons of Jacob. She handed it to the agent. “You’ll never prove Imminent Lawless Action”</p><p>Renee stared at the senator with confusion. “Excuse me?”</p><p>The Senator got an old newspaper article from her own files and showed it to her. It was an article from The Washington Post, written on March 2009, was titled: <em>“Vasectomies and tube-ligation made illegal on US soil, due concerns over low birth rates”. </em></p><p>“Do you know how that law came to be?”, Allison asked rhetorically, knowing Renee was probably unaware. Nobody liked to know how the sausages were actually made. “The Senators and Congressmen who voted for it were all financed by The Sons of Jacob… and those who weren’t bought, were bombarded by daily calls from thousands of angry constituents, demanding that we pass that law…” Allison sighed in frustration. “That’s what the Sons of Jacob do… <em>that’s </em>the danger I describe in my book… Funding law-makers with their dark money, radicalizing people by spreading lies and misconceptions… Their rhetoric is appalling, no doubt. But nothing they do breaks our laws”   </p><p>“I realize that, Senator”, Renee admitted, with a resigned nod and sight. She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out what to say next. “But…” She leaned slightly forward, and looked at Allison straight in the eyes. “What if that starts changing tonight? And we’re not there to prove it?”</p><p>The senator finally agreed: “Fair enough. But I want you to be discreet about this”</p><p>“Absolutely”, Renee promised in a heartbeat. “Secret service and capitol police will provide security, while our small team will be in plain clothes for a covert surveillance operation”  </p><p>“I believe we can all live with that”, Allison announced, standing up from her chair with a satisfied smile. She looked at Ethan and Angie, who nodded in agreement.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Hyatt Place Washington Dc/National Mall</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The senator’s guests were beginning to arrive at the bar in the roof of Hyatt Place hotel for the launching of her book. Allison Taylor herself was standing near the entrance of the bar, next to her husband, greeting all the arrivals, making small talk. She looked radiant in a simple v-cut silver dress. </p><p>The Taylors were standing next to a big poster showing the cover of Allison’s book, titled: “Under <em>Their </em>God: The Dangers of Christian Extremism in America”.</p><p>The word ‘<em>their’</em> was in italics to stress that the author was only objecting to the imposition of certain people’s interpretation of God, not religion perse or the idea of a supreme deity. The photograph on the cover showed a doctored image of the iconic Washington Monument… modified to resemble a cross. It was meant to illustrate what the USA would, hypothetically, look like under ‘<em>their’</em> God. </p><p>Larry and Renee were observing from the distance, as the guests walked through metal detectors monitored by Secret Service agents. The couple looked like average guests, as the Senator had requested. Renee had even swapped her business suit for a semi-formal, light purple flowery dress that reached her knees. FBI Field agents Seth Teller and Mark Dornan were also in the room. Unbeknownst to other invitees, the four of them wore earpieces that kept them in touch with each other, and with FBI analyst Janis Gold, who remained at their office, monitoring the hotel security cameras from her desk and checking up the arrivals with a face-recognition program.</p><p>Suddenly, Renee noticed that Larry’s face became shocked, seeming almost ‘haunted’, when a group of four people began going through the metal detectors. One of them was a man looking in his early 50’s, with piercing blue eyes, short black hair and a brawny look. He was with two blond women of his same age, and a brunette who looked slightly under 40.     </p><p>“What’s <em>he</em> doing here?”, Larry mumbled to himself, in disbelief. He then took Renee further away, to speak to her discretely, by a table that had many signed copies of Allison’s book. The two agents took a copy of a book and pretended to look at it, as they talked as quietly as possible. “You were in charge of vetting the guests, weren’t you?”    </p><p>“Yeah, anyone that RSVPed”, she replied, not understanding why her husband had suddenly gotten all paranoid. She began checking the files she had on her cellphone, searching for the information about that particular man.</p><p>“And you didn’t find anything unusual about the man that just walked in?”, Larry asked.</p><p>Renee finally found the man’s file, and she still didn’t get what was the problem. “No. He’s just a corporate lawyer called George Winslow. Founding partner of Winslow, Lyman and MacKenzie, the second largest corporate law firm in DC.”. But she could tell her husband was troubled by Winslow’s presence. “Why? You know him? Is something wrong with him?”   </p><p>“He’s with the Sons of Jacob”, Larry mumbled. “That didn’t come up when you vetted him?”</p><p>“No”, Renee said, now as stunned as her husband was, as she double-checked the information the FBI had found on George Winslow. “No political, or religious affiliation whatsoever. Not since he graduated from Liberty University”</p><p>“Well, he’s one of them”, Larry whispered, fearing Winslow was up to no good. Why else would one of <em>them</em> show up to Taylor’s party? He wondered if <em>this</em> was the attack the FBI had been worried about.</p><p>After George Winslow made it through the metal detector without incident, his group was warmly welcomed by Senator Taylor. Then a waiter approached them with a tray full of champagne glasses. They each took a glass. George smiled in a charming manner, with an arm around the younger brunette lady.</p><p>“How do you know he’s one of them?”, Renee whispered to her husband. She found it hard to believe that a fancy-suited wealthy corporate lawyer, of all people, would be part of a Christian-extremist group that preached against the possession of material goods.  </p><p>Larry got a bit closer to her and made sure their earpieces were off, so the other agents couldn’t hear what he had to say next. “Remember that I told you, how a member of the Sons of Jacob tried to recruit me when I first moved to DC?”</p><p>Renee nodded, rather awkwardly, recalling the story. Back in 2006, Larry was struggling to make his first marriage work, so he and Carla joined a support group for couples suffering from infertility, falsely believing that being childless was their only problem. In that group, they met someone who tried to get Larry to join The Sons of Jacob. It made sense that they used such support groups to scout for new members. People grieving multiple miscarriages were prone to buy the group’s rhetoric. But they weren’t counting on Larry being raised by such a hardcore second-wave feminist like Zoe Gianna Moss, whose influence on him had always been stronger than any cult could ever be.  </p><p>“<em>That</em>’s the creepy guy you told me about?”, Renee murmured, still in disbelief. She had expected someone completely different. “You sure it’s him? I mean, it’s been five years”.</p><p>“I’m sure”, Larry insisted. “And the brunette woman is his wife”</p><p>“So, you think…?”, Renee asked, growing alarmed. Now also wondering if this was the attack by Christian-extremists that they had been fearing.</p><p>“I don’t know”, her husband admitted. “But until he leaves, I’m not taking my eyes off them. Do we know who the other two women are?”</p><p>Renee looked at the information on her cell phone again. “The tallest, in a pink dress, is Sue Ellen Jones, and the other one is Lynette O’Niel… They’re name partners at Jones, O’Niel, Bridges and associates. The <em>largest</em> corporate law firm in DC.”. Renee’s curious gaze was drawn to Sue Ellen, a 6’feet tall and thin middle-aged woman, with platinum blonde curls reaching her shoulders and big emerald eyes. Beautiful face, although it had clearly suffered too many Botox treatments. The look of a stereotypical trophy wife, hiding the mind of someone smart enough to manage the largest corporate law firm in DC. She was wearing a pink Prada dress, matching Manolo Blahnik sandals and holding a black Channel bag. Not a look one expected from someone happily hanging out with a Christian extremist who believed materialism was destroying the USA. But, then… such Christian extremist was another corporate lawyer wearing Valentino. Nothing was making sense to Renee.</p><p>“How deep involved in that group is he?”, Renee wondered, and Larry shrugged, not knowing the answer to that. Could Winslow be less into the cult than Larry had thought? “I mean… The Sons of Jacob advocate for ultra-nationalism, and a society less focused on material gain… and, yet… he’s wearing a 4000-dollar Valentino suit”</p><p>Larry raised his eyebrows and stared at his wife in disbelief. “How do you know that’s a Valentino?”. Then Renee gave him that <em>you-don’t-wanna-know </em>look… a look she had given him several times in the past two years. It usually meant the answer was related to her time with Vladimir Laitanan. Larry realised that no woman spent 16 months posing as girlfriend of a rich Russian crime boss without learning a few things about expensive clothes.</p><p>“Forget I asked”, he mumbled.</p><p>Then they heard loud cheering sounds coming from the main entrance of the hotel. Everyone in the roof bar approached the edge to see what was happening.</p><p>They saw former President David Palmer getting out of a limousine. The cheers came from a small group of fans who had gathered to greet him, knowing he’d show up for the senator’s party. Some held signs saying ‘<em>Palmer For President 2012’</em>, even though he wasn’t even a candidate. Nobody was a contender, yet.</p><p>David waved and smiled at his supporters, as he made it inside the hotel without any incident.  </p><p>Soon enough, every guest had arrived. </p><p>As expected, Allison read brief extracts from her book and answered questions from the guests, with the finesse of someone who had been born to be in the spotlight.</p><p>After an hour, she invited everyone to have fun and mingle. Canapes were served, as the music of legend Billy Joel, her favorite singer, could be heard coming from the sound system.    </p><p>Larry was still concerned by Winslow’s presence and decided to stay close to him and his group, keeping a vigilant eye on them. Meanwhile, Renee got near David Palmer, who was having a conversation with Ethan Kanin.</p><p>“I was hoping to see you here, Professor Kanin”, David admitted, very pleased to see his former professor from Georgetown University.</p><p>Ethan chuckled, since he hadn’t been ‘<em>Professor Kanin’</em> for many years. After the army, and a few years as college professor, he had devoted himself to working for the CIA, and now he worked for Allison… But many of his former students liked to use his old title. “And I’m thrilled to see my two favorite former students finally in the same room. You have both made me very proud”.</p><p>“She seems very special”, David admitted, taking a glass of wine. “Professor Kanin, I’ll be blunt… I’ve been wondering why you’d quit your position as CIA director, to become a Junior Senator’s Chief of staff”. Ethan’s resignation from the CIA had occurred two days after the Air Force One went down, crowning Charles Logan as President of the USA. The timing had made David suspect Ethan was one of those Logan-hating republicans.  </p><p>Ethan got a bit uncomfortable, and drank some of his own wine. “Officially? I felt my wife needed me too much, when her health got worse”.  </p><p>“Unofficially?”, David inquired, raising an eyebrow with suspicion.</p><p>“Unofficially… I’d rather have a job cleaning radioactive hospital waste without gloves, than a job where I have to answer to Charles Logan”, Ethan admitted, speaking softly, only for the former President’s ear. David chuckled, unsurprised. “Secretary Heller chose to stay and work for him, hoping to minimize the damage… I just couldn’t do it” Ethan then realized, all the sudden, the whole reason why David was attending Allison’s party. “You want to know if she’s preparing herself to challenge Logan for the republican nomination next year”</p><p>“I was wondering if anyone is”, David confessed, with a casual sip of his wine.    </p><p>“It’d be pointless”, Ethan sighed, shaking his head with resignation. “No incumbent president has ever lost his primary race. And if the summit with Russia goes well, his popularity will only grow…”. And then he noticed the concern in the former President’s face, and became alarmed. “Are you worried no democrat would be able to beat him in the generals?”</p><p>David just shrugged and drank more wine, not wishing to admit that his own party was struggling to find a strong popular figure, after he had abruptly quit politics in 2008. It had been a huge scandal, for him to drop off the race against Keeler, with little explanation to the public, a month before the general elections.   </p><p>Ethan could easily sense the regret in the former President. “You’re still quite popular among the people, David”, he said, daring to use David’s first name for the first time. “And there’s no constitutional impediment for you to run in 2012”</p><p>“But I have a moral impediment”, David said somberly. While President, he had become a person he detested… someone who made morally questionable choices, or had others do dirty work for him. </p><p>Before he could explain his words to a baffled Ethan, Allison approached them with the biggest smile, to join the conversation, taking David’s hands between hers. “Mr. President, have I said already that it’s a big honor to have you here?”</p><p>“It’s my pleasure to finally meet you in person”, David assured her. “Your father and I were good friends, during my senate years” </p><p>Noticing that Allison got sad by the mention of her late father, Ethan decided to change the subject. “Allison, did you know that President Palmer is writing his memoirs? Very soon, we’ll all be celebrating <em>his</em> book release”</p><p>Allison’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “I’m looking forward to reading it. When do you think it’ll be ready?”</p><p>“I’m still struggling with the final… touches”, David confessed, while getting a glass of wine. “But I plan to finish it in September, when I visit my brother in LA. He’s been very helpful”</p><p> </p><p>Renee had been observing them from the distance. All the sudden, her stomach lurched. She hastily asked Agent Teller to cover her position, and rushed to the women’s bathroom. The sandwich she had eaten earlier for lunch surged up her throat, and into the toilet bowl.</p><p>“It’s not even morning”, she then moaned.</p><p>She was about to open the door of her stall, when two other women walked into the bathroom.</p><p>“Why is your husband so unhappy, Mrs. Winslow?”, one of the women asked.</p><p>Renee then realized one of them was Olivia Winslow, so, she decided to stay quietly inside the stall, hoping to overhear something important.</p><p>“George just feels disrespected”, Olivia said, while reapplying her own make-up.</p><p>“And what did <em>he </em>expect from a book written by America’s newest feminist icon?”, the other woman asked, with a somewhat ironic tone.   </p><p>Renee could just picture that woman’s dismissive eye roll.</p><p>“He feels disrespected <em>by your client</em>, Ms. Jones”, Olivia clarified. “We wanted to meet him”</p><p>“My client doesn’t do face-to-face meetings”, Sue Ellen explained.</p><p>“It’s not like we wanted to discuss business”, Olivia rushed to say. “We wouldn’t do that here, tonight. We merely wanted to meet him in person”</p><p>“He’s too busy with a different project right now”, Sue Ellen said, before reapplying her dark red lipstick. “But, believe me, my client’s very interested in your organization” </p><p>“You can stop the ‘<em>my client’</em> thing… We know you’re talking about your husband”, Olivia admitted, and smiled, pleased to see the other woman was slightly rattled.</p><p>Sue Ellen tried not to seem affected. “So? He’s my husband <em>and</em> my biggest client. What’s your point?”   </p><p>Inside her stall, Renee looked in her phone for the information she had collected while vetting the guests… Sue Ellen was married to some Private Military executive called Alan Wilson, who basically owned a dozen private military firms. Nothing strange about an ambitious corporate lawyer married to some rich mogul and helping him become even richer. Except that the man himself seemed to keep a very low profile. It was impossible to get more information about him, or a recent photo. And Sue Ellen used her maiden name for everything. No wonder George Winslow wanted to meet him in person… he was apparently trying to confirm Alan Wilson’s existence.    </p><p>“My point is that we are <em>done</em> dealing with intermediaries”, Olivia affirmed. “We’d like a meeting with <em>him</em>”</p><p>“You’ll meet him… when he’s ready”, Sue Ellen promised, even though her husband was still reluctant to deal with The Sons of Jacob. She was the one who was suddenly getting interested in Winslow’s cause, having just received awful news from a fertility clinic in Prague. Her desperation was growing. “But you definitely have my attention… and that’s not a small thing”. Sue Ellen could see the disappointment was still written in Olivia’s face, and found it very offensive. “I suppose your marriage is very different. But, trust me, my husband won’t consider any merger with your organization… without my blessing”. As a very obvious power move, she got a bit closer to the six-inches-shorter lady, and pretended to brush off some non-existing dirt from Olivia’s jacket. “Are you familiar with chess, Olivia?”</p><p>“Yeah…?”, Olivia replied, feeling deeply irritated and not understanding what chess had to do with anything.</p><p>“You have dealt with his knights and rooks… now you have direct access to his queen”, Sue Ellen explained with an arrogant smirk. “This was a good day for you”</p><p>After both women left the bathroom, Renee walked out of her stall, still with a weird feeling in her stomach. Two corporate lawyers talking about ‘meetings’ and ‘mergers’ was hardly a smoking gun… no matter how mysterious and evasive Sue Ellen’s client/husband was being. Renee had the strange sensation of finding a tiny piece of a massive puzzle. But she couldn’t make sense of it. A piece of a puzzle never made sense until it was put together with others.    </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Just as Senator Taylor had predicted, her book-launching came to an end without any incident, or any proof that The Sons of Jacob were planning, or instigating, any ‘<em>imminent lawless action’</em>.</p><p>As they stepped outside the hotel together, now officially done with work till the next morning, Larry and Renee couldn’t help to feel a mixture of relief, because everything went well, and frustration that they couldn’t prove the danger they could sense. They were also starting to doubt themselves.</p><p>“Are you still up for The Dubliner?”, Larry asked, when they reached their cars, noticing she looked exhausted. They had made dinner reservations to celebrate their anniversary in the same Irish Restaurant-Pub where they had met in 2006, and where their intimate wedding reception had taken place.     </p><p>“Yeah… I wouldn’t miss it”, she replied, standing on her toes, to plant a kiss on Larry’s lips. While her stomach twisted at the idea of ‘dinner’, she was craving to drop ‘agent mode’ for the night and just spend time with her husband. She still had huge news to share with him, and she was getting increasingly nervous about it. “Actually, would you like to walk there?”</p><p>“You sure?”, he raised an eyebrow. The Dubliner was a 26-minute walk away.</p><p>“Yeah. It’s a nice night”, Renee declared, holding his hand as they made their way towards Union Square park.</p><p>“You realize Director Garrison will make me shut down the investigation now”, Larry said, still unable to shake the feeling of defeat. His superior had been, surprisingly, against investigating The Sons of Jacob from the start. “On the grounds that we are interfering with their First Amendments rights” </p><p>Renee shook her head and exhaled with frustration. “I’m beginning to think that Senator Taylor was right all along… We keep expecting them to do something illegal, but they’re just using the system to get their own way”               </p><p>“I guess so”, Larry nodded.</p><p>They walked silently until they reached the capitol reflecting pool. A group of tourists was admiring the monuments at night and taking pictures, marvelling at the sights so many locals usually took for granted.  </p><p>“Honey, can we sit here for a minute?”, Renee asked, gesturing towards a small black bench. </p><p>“Sure”, Larry agreed in an instant. He didn’t even check his watch, to see if they’d make it to the restaurant in time for the reservations. He could sense the seriousness of the moment, even if he still didn’t know the reason.</p><p>They sat together, but she still seemed too nervous to speak. So, for a minute, he just kept an arm around her, and let her rest her head on his shoulder. They watched silently as the lights coming from the Capitol Building and a gorgeous full moon played on the surface of the pool before them.</p><p>Finally, she took a white envelope from her handbag. “So, I have another surprise for you”</p><p>“Aw, darling… but you already gave me the watch”, Larry said as he opened the envelope, wondering what was all about.</p><p>“I think you’ll like this more”, Renee predicted mumbling under her breath, with a nervous smile. She was sure, beyond doubt, that Larry would be thrilled… more than thrilled. His reaction was not what was concerning her so much.</p><p>Larry looked at the content of the envelope… a medical ultrasound result, from GW University hospital, with Renee’s name in it. Unable to believe what he was seeing at first, he looked at Renee, then back at the paper. He blinked several times and looked at the image on the paper from different angles, to make sure it wasn’t some sort of illusion.</p><p>“I… I don’t get it”, he babbled dumbly, still in shock. He and his first wife had tried to conceive for a decade, experiencing only false positives and molar pregnancies. And the news talked about nothing except the dammed ‘infertility pandemic’. He and Renee weren’t even trying to make a baby.</p><p>“I’m pregnant, Larry”, she breathed out those words, while trying to control the tears that were burning her eyes.</p><p>“Oh, my God”. His eyes got teary as well as he embraced her, overwhelmed by joy. He then placed a hand on her tummy, trying to feel something. “How far along…?”</p><p>“The doctor said nine weeks, nearly ten…”</p><p>Larry thought back at what had happened nine weeks back. “So, it happened during our little trip to Florida, for my mom’s birthday?”.</p><p>“Yeah”, Renee confirmed with a chuckle. Recalling all the intimacy she and Larry shared in his mom’s guest bedroom and the shower, while trying to be quiet and discreet, so Larry’s mom and his new stepfather wouldn’t notice. Something about all that secrecy had been particularly exciting. “You realize she’ll never let us forget that, right?”</p><p>“So… almost ten weeks”. It was suddenly dawning on Larry the fact that Renee had known about the baby and hid it for a while. “When did you find out?”</p><p>“I took a test about two weeks ago”, she admitted softly, looking down, a bit ashamed.</p><p>He gently lifted her chin, to force her to look at him in the eye. “Renee, why would you hide this from me?”</p><p>“Why do you think?”, she whispered, with tears now falling from her eyes. But Larry seemed confused, like he still didn’t get why. “I didn’t want to give you any false hope, given your history…”, she explained, holding his hands. “But this morning the doctor said everything looks fine, for now… they even found a strong heartbeat”</p><p>“A heartbeat?”, Larry repeated in disbelief. Such thing was unprecedented for him. Carla’s pregnancies had always ended near the beginning, with some very-apologetic doctor explaining that there was no heartbeat. He rarely, if ever, talked about the grief he had experienced… getting his hopes up, and starting planning, dreaming, as soon as there was a positive result… only to have it all crush and burn at some doctor’s office. He could understand why Renee would try her best to protect him from going through all that again.</p><p>Renee pulled her husband closer to her, for the tight embrace they both needed. “I’m sorry I hid this from you… please, don’t hate me”</p><p>“Like I could ever hate you”, he chuckled, as he softly brushed away the tears that fell from her eyes with her fingers. “I adore you. I’m just really glad I know”.</p><p>“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?”, she offered, much to Larry’s confusion. “They recorded the ultrasound and sent me the file”, she explained, and looked for the file on her cellphone, while Larry’s big eyes widened with excitement. Once the file was ready, she handed him her smartphone with a pair of small earphones.</p><p>He could see a small embryo in the video, looking like a floating blob at nearly 10 weeks. A head with eyes and a nose could be distinguished from the body, and two tiny arms, that appeared to be moving slightly. But the most amazing thing was the sound… the fast drumming of a developing heart.</p><p>“That’s our baby”, he finally said with pride, once he felt composed enough to speak those words without bawling.</p><p>“That’s our baby”, Renee repeated, as Larry’s excitement easily rubbed on her. “The doctor said it’s the size of a strawberry now…”</p><p>“A strawberry”, Larry marveled with a hand over his wife’s belly. Something as tiny as a strawberry could be so... huge.  </p><p>“Larry… things could still go very wrong”, she very softly pointed out. It terrified her to feel any excitement, and to see Larry so happy, knowing it could all fade away just as easily. Nine weeks wasn’t long enough, after all. So many people experienced heart-breaking losses much after that… even at birth.</p><p>“I know”, Larry acknowledged, pulling her closer to her and kissing her forehead. “But no matter what happens, you and I will have each other, and we’ll go through everything together… what happens to you happens to me, it happens to us, okay?” He looked intensively, almost with desperation, into her eyes. “Can you promise that?”</p><p>“I promise”, Renee nodded solemnly, making a big smile form in Larry’s features. She now felt like a huge burden was lifted off her shoulders. Everything felt much better and clearer when she shared it with him. She was even feeling less nauseous, and started to crave for food. “I’m ready to go to the restaurant now”</p><p>He grinned. “Good, cause I’m starving”   </p><p>As they walked towards The Dubliner, Renee remembered one last thing she needed to clarify: “By the way, honey… this does <em>not </em>mean I now want to embrace the <em>biological destiny </em>thing. I won’t quit the FBI to have a house full of… little strawberries…”</p><p>Larry pretended to be disappointed. “Damn it, I wish I’d known that <em>before</em> selling all my cattle to buy you from your family”      </p><p>She chuckled and put an arm around him, as they kept walking side by side… feeling like the luckiest people in the entire world.     </p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>August 10th 2013</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Bethesda, Maryland</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Renee saw steam coming off the frying pan and flipped the pancake, as an apron protected her navy-blue pantsuit. The sound of Larry walking into their kitchen put a grin on her face.</p><p>“Morning, honey”, he kissed the corner of her lip and rushed towards the coffee machine, urging for caffeine. Being a gentleman, he first filled up Renee’s mug for her. It said ‘<em>the best man for the job is a woman’</em>. He then poured coffee into his beloved ‘<em>World’s Greatest Dad’</em> mug. Neither him nor his wife had been getting much sleep lately.</p><p>As he sat by the breakfast bar, she placed a plate before him…  a plate with pancakes covered in chocolate. The number 41 was written on top with whipped cream. “Happy birthday, darling”, she whispered in his ear.</p><p>“I thought you’d forget this year”, he admitted, putting his arms around her waist. He pulled her closer to him and savored her lips, tasting chocolate. He could picture her eating some chocolate sauce directly from the bottle while cooking.</p><p>“Why would I forget?”, Renee asked, like he was crazy, and sipped her coffee. Her husband was now one year older than her dad had ever gotten to be. It wasn’t something she took lightly, at all. Regardless of how their country was going down the drain, and everything around them seemed to be crumbling down.  </p><p>“The last seven months have been so crazy”, Larry pointed out, with a shrug. He felt like he had aged ten years since February. And he knew Renee was feeling just as weary. “I wouldn’t have blamed you”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t forget, and there are more surprises on the way”, she announced, with the tiniest smirk. “I figured we need to celebrate the good things, now more than ever”.</p><p>Just as she talked about good things, their daughter was heard through the baby-monitor. The image feed from the camera in the nursery showed the red-haired toddler standing in her crib, holding on to the bars, trying to get out as she cried.</p><p>“I’ll get Miss Zoey. You enjoy your breakfast”, Renee said, rushing out of the kitchen.</p><p>While finishing the pancakes, Larry watched the video feed from the nursery. Renee changed Zoey’s diapers and got her dressed. She usually sang to the toddler some random cheerful tune while doing so, because it put the baby in a better mood, making everything easier. But they were rarely kiddy songs. His grin grew and reached his eyes when his wife began singing <em>Wonderwall</em>, by Oasis:       </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And all the roads we have to walk are winding</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And all the lights that lead us there are blinding</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And after all… You're my wonderwall</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Soon, Renee reemerged into the kitchen, with Zoey in her arms. The little girl was wearing a bright green dinosaur-themed playsuit, and was struggling to hold a big gift bag and her Little Mermaid doll at the same time.</p><p>“Daddy! Daddy!”, Zoey’s face lit up as she saw Larry. “Hug!”. At 18 months, she still couldn’t say much. But she managed to communicate what she wanted.</p><p>“Zoey, can you say happy birthday, daddy?”, Renee encouraged.      </p><p>“Happy <em>burstday</em>, daddy!”, Zoey tried to repeat, while her dad held her.</p><p>He chuckled and kissed her head. “Close enough. Thank you, my Little Strawberry”</p><p>“And, of course, we have gifts for daddy”, Renee said with a cheerful tone, prompting Zoey to hand Larry the bag.</p><p>“Aw, thank you”, Larry put his baby in the highchair, to check the contents of the bag.</p><p>He was delighted, nearly moved to tears, when he saw it.</p><p>It was a personalized scrapbook, with a navy-blue leather cover that said ‘<em>My life… so far’</em>. Inside, there were exactly 41 little mementos, to honour his 41 years on this earth. Many were of his life with Renee… like the ticket from the first movie they had watched together at the cinema, the bill from their first dinner out, Zoey’s ultrasound photos…</p><p>But he also noticed much older mementos that had obviously been obtained with the help of his mother: a very old St. Lorenzo Holy Card, which Larry’s religious grandmother had given to him as a child, a ticket to Fleetwood Mac and Green Day concerts he had attended with his mom as a pre-teen, and his admission letter to Columbia University.</p><p>He could barely control the emotions when he saw a photo of himself at the age of three with his mother. They were wearing super corny mom/son costumes for Halloween 1976… Older Zoe was a pizza, while little Larry was the pizza slice missing from her mom’s costume.</p><p>“When… when did my mom give you this?”, Larry asked, with his voice nearly breaking.</p><p>“The last time we saw her”, Renee replied, getting a bit sad as well. They hadn’t seen, or heard, from Larry’s mom in over two months. And they weren’t expecting news any time soon. Zoe had been forced to flee to Canada with her husband after getting in serious legal trouble with the new government.</p><p>Feeling guilty that her gift had upset him, she got closer and put her arms around him. “I’m sorry, honey…  I’m sure she made it, and they’re fine. We would have heard if she had gotten caught”.</p><p>“Yeah…”, Larry agreed, knowing that his wife was right about that. He had already checked all jails, detention centers, and his mom was not a prisoner… which meant she was just laying low in Canada, waiting for everything in the US to go back to normal.</p><p>He pulled Renee even closer to him, till there was no space between them, and his lips softly brushed hers. He was feeling more grateful than ever for his wife. The last seven months had been so awful in many ways, but they were facing it all together. “Thank you so much, honey… for the gift, and for being in my life” </p><p>They were predictably interrupted by little Zoey, who was hungry. So, Larry got in charge of feeding her, while Renee finished her own coffee and breakfast. He noticed his daughter wanted food, but wouldn’t let go her Little Mermaid doll. He was surprised his wife had even gotten that doll for Zoey. “I thought you hated Ariel…”, he commented casually to Renee. “You said she teaches girls to give up everything for some random guy”   </p><p>“I know”, Renee sighed, with resignation. “But when we were at the toy store, she saw it and threw a tantrum till I bought it”. She shrugged and had some pancakes. </p><p>“I bet she just wanted a doll with gorgeous red hair, like her mommy’s”, Larry guessed. </p><p>“Maybe”, Renee smiled blissfully, as she began tiding up the breakfast island. She noticed it was 6.40 am, almost time to drop Zoey off at the Day Care center in Bethesda and head to the office. “So, are we riding to work together today? Or should we take both cars?”</p><p>“Definitely two cars”, he replied, while Zoey finished her fruit and yogurt. “I have a meeting at the White House before work. The Committee summoned me, and all the other heads of law enforcement agencies in the area, to discuss some new security measures” </p><p>“Well, maybe you’ll find out when the so-called <em>Committee For National Restoration</em> will actually restore this country…”, Renee scoffed, showing her anger and resentment towards the current government. She closed the dishwasher a bit too harshly.</p><p>“They promised to hold national elections soon”, her husband reminded her.</p><p>She sighed, not feeling too optimistic. “Yeah… And Lucy always promised she’d hold the football, but Charlie Brown ended falling on his butt every time he tried to kick it”</p><p>“Honey, this is America. I’m sure we’ll vote soon”, Larry reassured her, trying to sound confident.  “Holding elections, reopening congress and the supreme court… those will be the next logical steps now that the biggest danger is over. I bet the meeting is about that”</p><p>Renee could only hope her husband was right. She wished she could share his undying faith in the system. “Just remember to say ‘<em>Oh, good grief</em>’ after you fall on your butt”, she joked with a dry tone.   </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Washington DC.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Merely three hours later, Renee was standing in her office, holding her fourth cup of coffee, feeling lost, and staring at the big board full of newspaper clippings on her wall.  </p><p>
  <em>Thursday November 22nd 2012. ‘Terror in Manhattan again. Suicide bomber attack on bus kills 16 people’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>November 24th 2012. ‘Black Friday Massacre in Miami. 28 killed, 160 wounded in suicide bombing at Aventura Mall’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>January 5th 2013. ‘Wave of death: 370 people killed by suicide bombers across the US in the last 41 days. No group has claimed responsibility, but all evidence points to Islamic Extremists’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sunday Jan 20th 2013: ‘Wayne Palmer takes oath of office behind closed doors, due security concerns. Islamic extremists have killed 638 people in the US in the last 8 weeks’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 03rd 2013: ‘Authorities rumored to be hunting for terrorist Hamri Al-Assad. No official confirmation’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 12th 2013: ‘Meet the real monster: Abu Fayed. Anonymous tip reveals true identity of mastermind behind wave of deadly attacks’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 15th 2013: ‘UNTHINKABLE! Five Nuclear strikes across our nation! Over 40.000 souls lost instantly as monster Fayed attacks Los Angeles and San Luis Obispo (CA), Tonopah (AZ), Fulton (MO) and Burlington (KS)’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 16th 2013: ‘FROM CATASTROPHE TO CALAMITY: Blast Wave from Fayed’s Nukes Damaged Nearby Nuclear Plants. Affected Areas Won’t be Habitable for Years’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 18th 2013: ‘Three simultaneous attacks in Washington DC. kill highest echelons of the US government. Capitol, White House and Supreme Court Building hit with gun machines by dozens of Islamic radicals’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 19th 2013: ‘Carnage in DC: total dead toll soars to 5019, including the 115 shooters’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 19th 2013: ‘Aftermath of the Presidents’ Day Massacre: WHO’S IN CHARGE? No survivors in presidential line of succession’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 19th 2013: ‘NATIONAL STATE OF EMERGENCY DECLARED: private military executive must step in to form interim government’</em>
</p><p>Renee’s eyes fixated on an image that came with that article. It was a very outdated photo of… Alan Wilson. It was from the early 90’s, before he lost most of his chestnut-brown hair. It seemed that, whoever had written that article in February, hadn’t been able to find a newer picture of Wilson for it. Just like the FBI had failed to find a recent photo of him back when they vetted his wife, in 2011. That had always puzzled Renee… ever since the time she overheard his wife and Olivia Winslow talking about him. As it turned out… Alan’s multibillion-dollar companies and subsidiaries had been doing business with the Defense Department for a long time. How had such man managed to keep his anonymity for almost two decades? But after the Presidents’ Day Massacre, suddenly and forever, that man’s name and face became well-known by everyone as America’s ‘savior’.</p><p>
  <em>February 20th 2013: ‘Committee for National Restoration promises: We won’t rest until the monster is found’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 20th 2013: ‘Heroic: Meet the men who’ll get our nation through its darkest hour’</em>
</p><p>That article had a recent photo of Alan Wilson, posing with other members of the committee he had formed to ‘<em>restore the nation back to normal</em>’: Beau Frederick ‘Fred’ Judd and… George Winslow. Renee found it interesting, and very alarming, that both Judd and Winslow were now known as founders of The Sons of Jacob. The Committee included ten more members of that cult, such as Howard Marr and Trevor O’Niel, also private military executives, for a total of thirteen men.</p><p>
  <em>February 21st 2013: ‘Out of Patriotism: Top Oil moguls vow to keep the economy running during these unprecedented times’.</em>
</p><p>In the photo for this article, Alan Wilson could be seen posing awkwardly with Graem Bauer, CEO of BXJ Technologies, a multinational industrial corporation dedicated to energy production. The two men were shaking hands, but Wilson’s face looked like someone was making him smile while touching a big pile of hospital waste. Graem seemed to be enjoying all the attention and being regarded a hero.</p><p>
  <em>Feb 22nd 2013: ‘General Fred Judd in charge of the Pentagon: our main goal is defending this nation and hunting down Fayed’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Feb 23rd 2013: ‘WE’RE DOING ALL FOR YOUR PROTECTION, George Winslow responds to critics of latest security measures and takes over as Director of National Intelligence’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jun 4<sup>th </sup>2013: ‘Justice Has Been Done! US Special Forces kills Abu Fayed’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jun 4th 2013: ‘Abu Fayed dead. Terrorist mastermind killed in Siberia’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jun 6th 2013: ‘NOT OVER YET, SAYS GOVERNMENT. Terror alert kept at highest level after Fayed’s death’</em>
</p><p>Renee had mixed feelings about Fayed’s death. He had taken over 40000 lives. Five nuclear bombs in California and the south west. Plus, a massacre in the capital. It felt great to see the bastard gone. Except, nobody had gotten chance to interrogate him, which was troubling her. He had acquired five nuclear bombs and recruited 115 Islamic extremists to shoot down the Capitol, the White House and the Supreme Court with the best gun machines available. How?</p><p>The most upsetting part was that Abu Fayed had been in custody of CTU Seattle on November 2011, , but was released due to lack of evidence at that time. The man responsible for the release, CTU director Bill Buchanan, had been mysteriously missing since the Committee tried to arrest him for treason. Which was even stranger, Buchanan was married to Karen Hayes, Palmer’s National Security Advisor, also killed in the massacre. Coincidentally, a few days before the attacks, Karen had asked Larry to reopen the investigation about… The Sons of Jacob. It all seemed to lead to that cult.</p><p>Renee then looked at the oldest articles on her office wall:</p><p><em>‘OLD-FASHIONED GROUP RAISES NEW HOPES’.</em> The article had been written in August 2008. It explained about The Sons of Jacob, and how the group had been born in the 90’s, and had been growing slowly, almost unnoticed, ever since then. The writer attributed the appeal of the group to the fact that the infertility crisis was making people ‘thirsty for God’.</p><p><em>‘ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON CHRISTIAN ACTIVIST FUELS MOVEMENT’</em>, was a headline from March 16th 2009. It described the effects of the failed assassination attempt on Serena Joy Waterford. Getting almost killed by left-wing activist had only helped her gather even more supporters for her cause.</p><p>Nobody had been able to stop them. Just being a sexist Christian-extremist asshole wasn’t illegal. They had rights too. They had been investigated and cleared of wrongdoing.</p><p>And now they were in charge of the country. But somebody had to step in. Right? It wasn’t<em> their</em> fault that the entire government had been obliterated by Islamic extremists and nobody else was left to lead during the biggest crisis ever. Unless… Could it be…? What if…? What if the attacks had been their fault after all?  </p><p>The mere idea was very unsettling. It wasn’t a thought Renee could even mutter to anybody without more evidence. But where could she start looking for solid proof? She walked out of her office and headed towards Janis’s desk. </p><p>“Janis, last year, the field office in Boston carried out an investigation on The Sons of Jacob. They followed Fred Waterford, and other members. I need to see the files”, she whispered to the analyst, making sure nobody else was listening.  </p><p>“Why?”, Janis asked, raising her eyebrows, even though the same suspicions had been in her mind for a while. </p><p>“Right before the DC massacre, Karen Hayes told Larry to reopen our old investigation on the Sons of Jacob, but after she was killed in the attacks, Director Garrison ordered us to shut it down… again”.  </p><p>“Of course he shut it down”, Janis muttered under her breath, looking hopeless. Renee seemed confused by her comment, so Janis had to spell it out for her: “Lester Garrison is a member of the Sons of Jacob”</p><p>“What? No way”, Renee was shocked that the man who had been FBI Director since 2005, was a member of a Christian-extremist cult.</p><p>“So are the Directors of the CIA and the NSA, half of the Joint Chiefs…”, Janis added. “But they were never open about it… till recently”</p><p>“I need to see what the Boston office got on them”, Renee couldn’t believe the cult had been secretly infiltrating into the government, at such high levels, for so long.</p><p>Then they got a call saying that Larry had just entered the building, back from the White House. Renee rushed to meet him by the elevator. Eager to talk to him about a possible criminal conspiracy by The Sons of Jacob, and to find out about his meeting.  </p><p>When the elevator door opened, he walked out, closely followed by two younger men wearing plain black and grey military uniforms, with an indigo ballistic vest. It was the new type of uniform for soldiers. They were also carrying Colt M4A1 carbines.</p><p>“Larry, what’s going on?”, she asked him, starting to get worried.</p><p>He walked right past his wife, and rushed towards his office. He noticed the soldiers were still just one step behind him, like shadows, or mosquitoes on a summer day. He turned around to face them, trying to control the fury he felt: “I already said <em>I’ll do it</em>. You don’t need to breathe down my neck”.</p><p>“You have thirty minutes, Agent Moss”, one of the soldiers reminded him, with a hostile tone. “Not a second more”      </p><p>Larry angrily stared at the boy, wishing to punch him. But then he scoffed, defeated, walked into his office, with a baffled Renee following him inside and closing the door behind them.</p><p>“What the hell is happening, Larry?”, she asked. Her husband flopped into his chair, rubbing his temple, as he did when feeling overwhelmed and lost. He had obviously gotten upsetting news during the meeting. He finally looked at her in the eyes, and it scared her, because he looked not only helpless, but guilty as hell. “What is it?”</p><p>“There are some new laws…”, he started saying, but he bit his lip, not wishing to say the rest, not knowing how to say it. But he had to do it. “There’s no easy way to say this…”</p><p>“Just tell me!”, Renee urged him.     </p><p>“I… I need you to turn in your badge and your service gun”, he managed to say, much to Renee’s confusion. “You’re permanently relieved from your duties”</p><p>It was the last thing she had expected to hear. Not because Larry was her husband, who worshiped her. He wouldn’t hesitate to fire her, if she deserved it. But she had done nothing even remotely wrong. “Wait… You’re firing me?”</p><p>“Not just you. All the women who work here”, he clarified, with a remorseful tone. Renee was understandably speechless. He added, lowering his voice. “It’s not my choice. It’s the new law”</p><p>“They can’t ban women from the FBI. It’s insane”, she hastily shook her head in denial, with her hands closed into fists. But her husband’s expression soon told her that the situation was even worse. The realization came to her like a bucket of ice dropped on her. “It’s not just from the FBI, isn’t it?”  </p><p>Larry shook his head, confirming Renee’s worst suspicious. “The Committee decided that, for everyone’s sake, all women must look after their homes and bear children. Nothing else” </p><p>“Are you kidding me?!”, Renee snapped loudly, knocking the files over Larry’s desk with a quick movement of her hand. “They can’t do this!”</p><p>Knowing the soldiers were likely listening on the other side of the door, Larry panicked and rushed to put a hand over her mouth. “This has to happen. Please, I need you to go… just get Zoey from day-care and take her to visit your cousin”</p><p>Larry didn’t need to say which cousin, or why he was mentioning her. Renee only had only cousin in DC… whose partner worked at the Irish embassy. They had postponed it for too long… but it seemed like Larry was now ready to leave the country.</p><p>It was then that she noticed dread in her husband’s eyes. Something she had never seen before. His pale blue eyes kept shifting between her and the door, as if he believed those government soldiers outside were capable of shooting at FBI agents for not complying with a new absurd, sexist, unethical, antidemocratic law. It was starting to frighten her.</p><p>“Larry, I’ve never seen you this scared before”</p><p>“I’ve never <em>been</em> this scared before”, he admitted lowering his voice to a whisper. “Please, we shouldn’t even talk about this here. Just go. Please”</p><p>Renee realized there was no other option. She put her glock-19 over his desk, and laid down her badge… she couldn’t help to caress the black leather of the cover. She had cherished that badge, and everything it represented. She had sweat and bled to earn it.</p><p>“If there was any other way…”, Larry mumbled apologetically.</p><p>“Think I don’t know that?”, she groaned, with resignation. She knew Larry well enough to see that they were trapped, and out of better options.</p><p>She gathered her personal effects, while Larry shared the bad news with all the other women. When Renee walked by the bullpen, more soldiers had appeared. Her female co-workers were already collecting personal effects with despair, and rightful outrage. </p><p>One the young soldiers began walking a step behind Renee, in case she caused trouble. His brownish eyes looked so empty; it was scary. Larry approached them.</p><p>“It’s fine. She’s leaving”, Larry reassured the soldier. Then he got closer to his wife, standing between her and the soldier, and kissed her on the cheek, while subtly slipping a small device in her pocket. “See you at home, honey”</p><p>“Yeah”, Renee nodded, realizing Larry was putting an act for the boy’s benefit.</p><p>The soldier seemed satisfied that everything was going according to plan, and pushed the elevator bottom for Renee. The door opened instantly, and the boy held it.</p><p>“Thanks”, she mumbled, just out of habit, as she got inside the elevator.  </p><p>“Under His eye”, the soldier replied, showing no emotion.    </p><p>She was thrown aback by those words. It was the first time she was hearing someone saying them, and it made no sense. It felt like the whole world was going mad. She locked eyes with Larry, as if looking for an answer, right before the elevator door closed. He looked very sad, but unsurprised.  </p><p>Once alone inside the elevator, she looked at the devise Larry had slipped inside her pocket. It looked like a tiny radio, but it served to detect hidden cameras and mics. Apparently, Larry believed the government could be spying their house, and wanted her to check.</p><p>She left the elevator and walked towards her car. More government soldiers were in sight, making sure all women were leaving the premises. One of them greeted her saying: “Under His Eye, ma’am”</p><p>This time, it sent a chill through her spine.</p><p>Janis approached her, in shock, carrying a box with her personal belongings. “What the hell? This is crazy. How can Larry do this to us?”</p><p>“We shouldn’t talk here”, Renee said, gesturing towards the soldiers. Both women got into Renee’s car. “I think Larry’s being threatened… something about Zoey. He was terrified, and told me to go get Zoey right away”</p><p>“Right. I should have guessed”, Janis sighed, with anger and resignation.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Remember which company was George Winslow’s biggest client when he was in corporate law?”</p><p>“Samuel And Eli Adoption Services… so?”, Renee didn’t get the relevance. ‘<em>Samuel and Eli’ </em>was the biggest private adoption agency currently in the USA. The name came from the bible. According to the scriptures, a barren woman named Hanna prayed and cried for a baby in front of a prophet, Eli, who promised her that God would give her children. Hanna eventually gave birth to Samuel… but gave him up to be raised by Eli, in the temple, so the child could become a prophet of God too. For her sacrifice, Hanna was rewarded with more children. Renee found the story disturbing, but she wasn’t seeing what Janis saw.</p><p>“Ever since the total privatization of Foster Care became law, that agency controls every single case…”, Janis explained, surprised that she needed to spell everything out to the other woman.  “Winslow’s biggest client decides which kid goes into the system”</p><p>‘<em>Oh, fuck… no</em>’, Renee thought to herself, suddenly realizing what Janis was thinking. She shook her head hastily, in deep denial. “They can’t take Zoey”   </p><p>Janis looked at her friend with a mixture of pity and disbelief. “They’ve been doing it for a year. They started by taking kids just from foreigners, drug-addicts and Muslims… so nobody cared. Then they went after single moms… now almost anyone can be deemed <em>morally unfit</em> to raise a child”</p><p>“I didn’t think… I assumed those were children in bad homes”, Renee mumbled, looking down at her stirring wheel, feeling sick and guilt-stricken… how could she be so stupid? How could she be so naive and ignorant?</p><p>Then they noticed two government soldiers approaching the vehicle, looking angry.</p><p>“We have to get out of here”, Janis hissed.</p><p>Renee got her car started right away, trying to figure out the next steps. “We’ll visit my cousin Muriel… her partner works for the Irish embassy. Maybe they can help. But we need to get Zoey first”. Janis nodded in immediate agreement.</p><p>Renee drove the car towards Zoey’s day care center. She tried to cross from DC to Bethesda avoiding security checkpoints, only to realize that it was impossible. It seemed that even more barriers guarded by soldiers had been installed between DC and Maryland.</p><p>“Blessed day, ladies”, one of the soldiers said, with an empty smile, when they handed their IDs cards. He used a devise to scan the one saying ‘<em>Renee Walker-Moss</em>’ first, and got Renee’s basic information in his own PDA, along with a green sign saying ‘access to area: <em>authorised</em>’. However, when he scanned the card saying ‘<em>Janis Gold’</em> a red sign popped up saying: ‘INMEDIATE ARREST’.</p><p>The soldier instantly aimed his weapon at the brown-haired woman, as three more soldiers approached, in case there was trouble. “Miss Janis Gold, there’s an order for your arrest. Leave the vehicle, now! Slowly, hands behind your head”</p><p>“What?! Why?! I’ve done nothing wrong!”, Janis yelled.  </p><p>Renee was also stunned. “Arrest her for what?!”</p><p>“You’re under arrest! Leave the vehicle, or we will shoot!”, one soldier yelled at Janis.</p><p>Janis was in tears, but looking that she was now surrounded by five men with Colt M4A1 carbines, she didn’t see a choice. Renee looked ready to just hit the gas pedal and try to flee. Both women looked at each other, communicating silently, in that special way only females who had been close friends for a long time could. Then Janis shook her head sadly, as if saying ‘<em>don’t do it… it’s pointless</em>’.</p><p>Janis opened the door and left the car, with her hands behind her head. A soldier began patting her down, looking for hidden weapons. “No dinner first?”, she snarked.  </p><p>Renee also left the car at the same time, to try to reason with another soldier. “Just tell me where you’re taking her, please. She has the right to a lawyer!”</p><p>“Go back into your vehicle, Mrs. Moss…”, the soldier ordered, with a creepily calm tone, as he held his gun-machine inches away from Renee’s face. </p><p>“Not until you tell me where you’re taking her, or why!”, Renee protested loudly, with all the defiance she could muster.</p><p>“Renee, it’s fine. It’s fine”, Janis nodded reassuringly, with resigned tears in her brown eyes, as she was handcuffed. The last thing she wanted was to get Renee or Larry in trouble. “Protect your family”</p><p>Then Renee thought of her baby girl, waiting for her in the day care center, and how any trouble with the new government could end with Zoey being put in a foster care system, now run by Christian extremists.</p><p>So, she was forced to sorrowfully watch Janis being put in some unmarked van, bound to an unknown destiny.   </p><p>As shaken as she felt, she was more determined than ever to get to her daughter, and then figure out a way to leave the country. </p><p>While on her way, she called Larry and told him about Janis’s arrest. Struggling not to show emotions, he said they shouldn’t talk about it over the phone, but would see what he could do. It was obvious he believed <em>they</em> were spying his conversations.</p><p>  </p><p>After arriving to the Day Care center, she saw a sign on the door informing that the facility would be shutting down in the following days, since mothers would no longer ‘<em>be burdened with work</em>’ and would be able to watch any child that was too young for school. The sign finished with two words: ‘<em>Praised be</em>!’ and it included the symbol of The Sons of Jacob: that eagle carrying an olive branch under a sun burst.</p><p>It was disturbing because, until then, there hadn’t been any indication whatsoever of the center being associated with that cult. Otherwise, Larry and Renee would have sent their daughter somewhere else. But, at that point, Renee was just happy to take her daughter home. She sighed with relief when a teacher dressed in a sober brown dress showed up with a happy-looking Zoey. The child got even happier when her mother was in sight and clumsily ran towards her, giggling.  </p><p>Renee rushed to pick her up. “Hello, Princess”   </p><p>“Mommy… hurt”, Zoey protested when Renee hugged her too tightly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, sweetie… I’m sorry”, Renee tried to calm down, and kissed the toddler’s cheeks. She had her, so everything would be fine…  She then noticed that Zoey had a big pink bow pinned to her strawberry-blonde hair, which wasn’t there in the morning.</p><p>It wasn’t the first time the teachers gave Zoey some pink hair bow or band, to make her look ‘girlier’, because they felt Zoey’s outfit for the day was ‘too boyish’. Normally, Renee just ignored it and tossed it away later, or politely returned it, feeling something as silly as a hair accessory wasn’t worth a big fight. But now everything had taken a new meaning.</p><p>She took the bow out and showed it to the teacher. “What <em>the hell</em> is this?”</p><p>The other woman was flustered. “Mrs. Moss, watch your language”, she scolded, while returning Zoey’s backpack, which was blue and designed to look like a shark.   </p><p>“It’s Walker-Moss”, Renee corrected her in a heartbeat, with a look loaded of hatred towards the woman. “And I asked you a question… what’s with this hair bow?”</p><p>The teacher smiled falsely, with hidden contempt. “Zoey’s hair is still too short and, with kids this young, it’s sometimes hard to tell the gender… she just needed a little help looking like a pretty little girl today”</p><p>Renee wanted to punch that hideous woman in the nose, or knock those big yellowish teeth down. Instead, she got closer to the woman’s space with creepy calmness, and pinned the pink bow to the teacher’s greyish hair. “Thanks, but you need it <em>way</em> more”</p><p>The teacher gasped in disbelief, feeling very insulted.    </p><p>Renee didn’t wait for a response and simply walked away quickly, carrying her kid to the car.</p><p>“At least you’ll never have to be near these lunatics again”, Renee promised her daughter, in a cheerful tone, while getting her settled in the car seat.</p><p>“<em>Hungy</em>, mommy”, Zoey whined, trying to say she was hungry, while clutching her Ariel doll, as usual. </p><p>Renee realized the only food she had in a car was a bag of goldfish crackers. She opened it and gave it to Zoey, with a juice box, before getting the car started. “Before going home, sweetie, we have to visit cousin Muriel and her wife, Ciara… Remember them?” </p><p>She directed her car back to DC, deciding to drop by her cousin’s house without phoning first. If their phones were compromised, it was best to just talk about everything face-to-face. Her cousin’s wife, Ciara Murray, was an immigration lawyer who worked for the Irish embassy in DC. Renee was hoping the lawyer could help, somehow… she prayed all the way that employees of foreign embassies weren’t affected by the new ridiculous American laws. </p><p>Once in Georgetown, Renee parked her vehicle by the small townhouse Muriel and Ciara had shared for the last four years. She spotted Muriel O’Carroll, who was attempting to clean some nasty graffiti on the front on the house. Somebody had seemingly used red spray to paint: ‘<em>God Hates Dikes!’</em> and<em> ‘Go back to your country!’. </em></p><p>Muriel was rubbing soap and water against the wall, but took a second to catch her breath and wipe a bit of sweat from her forehead, hidden under tick purple bangs. Her mood visibly improved as soon as she noticed Renee was visiting. They hadn’t seen each other in person since before the attacks. </p><p>“Oh, it’s so good to see <em>ye</em>!”, Muriel said, while rushing to hug her and Zoey.   </p><p>“I’m glad to see you too”, Renee said, now feeling guilty about not checking up on her relative more often. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t drop by sooner”</p><p>“I don’t blame you at all”, Muriel affirmed in an instant. She expected her cousin’s job to become extra-demanding in the crazy times they were living. “The last months must have been brutal for you and your husband”. Before Renee could reply, they noticed two nosy neighbors giving them a disapproving glare. “Come on in, let’s talk inside… I’ll make tea”</p><p>When they walked into the house, Renee was not surprised to see the living room had several boxes piled up. It seemed like everything in the house was being packed to move. It seemed like everyone who <em>could</em> leave America, was doing so. It was understandable, but very sad. “So… you and Ciara are moving back to Ireland?”</p><p>“No”, Muriel replied, as she got the kettle ready to make the tea. “Ciara has been transferred to the embassy in Ontario. That’s where we’re moving”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“Sometime next week” As the water heated up, Muriel began searching inside her kitchen cabinets. “I think I have some biscuits here…”</p><p>“It’s fine”, Renee assured her in a heartbeat. “Look, I just… I really need to talk to Ciara. We need her help”</p><p>“I bet you do”, Muriel sighed dejectedly, but not surprised. She had been expecting this visit from her cousin, given the situation in the US. “You and every American with an Irish-born person in their family tree… she’s barely left her office in the last few months and doesn’t see people without an appointment. But, you’re family… so, I’ll give her a call”  </p><p>“Thank you”. While Muriel made the call, Renee noticed the big brown piano that occupied a big part of the living room. It dragged a smile out of her. She sat by it, with little Zoey on her lap. “See, Zoey? This belonged to your Grandma Abby… but she gave it to Muriel because your mommy has zero musical talent”.</p><p>The toddler clumsily played a few keys and giggled when the sound came from it. She then kept pressing keys and tried babbling a song along.      </p><p>“Aw, already a better musician than your mummy”, Muriel joked as walking back into the living room, she was carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. Her big pink pendant earrings seemed to dance as she moved. “So, Ciara will be here in fifteen minutes, to talk to you”</p><p>“Good. Thanks”, Renee smiled, in appreciation. “So, how have you been?”</p><p>“Unemployed for five months”, was Muriel’s blunt answer. “We had to dissolve the band when the government shut down most bars where we played, and banned foreigners from working, except embassy employees” She explained, while setting the tea on the table.  “We only stayed because of Ciara’s job, but… well… I suppose it’s time to move on… I’ll start a new band in Canada”.</p><p>Renee was amazed by how calm and optimistic her younger cousin seemed, in spite of awful circumstances. Muriel had already stated her life over, when she moved from Ireland to New York, to study in Juilliard and had then built a life in DC. Renee had moved around a lot as a young child, growing up in different military bases… But her family had settled down in Bethesda when she was 10, and the DC area had been her truest home since then… Not even her year in Moscow, or all her years in New York, had changed that. DC was where she had been the happiest, where she had met Larry, where her daughter had been born… and her father was buried in Arlington. Suddenly, the idea of a life without the FBI, away from DC…. it was giving her anxiety pains in her stomach. But she was coming to the realization that there was no other choice.</p><p>Thirty minutes later, the expression of hopelessness on Ciara’s face after Renee described what had happened in the last few hours certainly didn’t reassure anybody. Every woman in the US out of work? A former FBI analyst arrested, out of nowhere? It seemed impossible.  </p><p>“And they didn’t even tell you the charges?”, Ciara asked, in profound disbelief. Renee shook her head. “You said her last name is Gold.. You think it was about her faith?”</p><p>“Her faith?” Renee didn’t understand what Ciara was talking about, since Janis was a secular humanist, and didn’t belong to any faith. Could that be the reason?  </p><p>“I heard from my friends at the Israeli embassy about Jewish-Americans being one of the main targets of the Committee”</p><p>“But Janis is not Jewish”, Renee clarified, shaking her head. But it was a common misunderstanding her friend faced a lot, because of her last name. “Her father was”</p><p>“But she’s definitely not?”, Ciara adjusted her tick glasses, finding it difficult to figure out, then, why Janis had been targeted by the government.</p><p>“She has tattoos, eats bacon and had her tubes tied ten years ago. What do you think?”, Renee practically yelled, and then felt bad for snapping at the one person who was trying to help. “Sorry… this is all insane”</p><p>“No problem”, Ciara assured her, with a tiny smile. She knew the situation was making everyone feel trapped and nervous. At least she and Muriel had EU passports, and were on their way out of the dumpster fire that was now the USA. She didn’t blame an American woman like Renee, without a simple way out, for lashing out. “The tube ligation actually explains your mate’s arrest”    </p><p>“<em>Explains </em>her arrest?”, Renee repeated with an ‘<em>are you listening to yourself</em>’ tone, since there was nothing ‘logical’ about arresting a woman for having her tubes tied. “She did it ten years ago, long before it became Illegal”</p><p>“That doesn’t seem to matter anymore”, Ciara said, as gently as she possibly could. The new American government seemed to be applying the law retroactively, which had once been forbidden by the constitution… but the US constitution had been suspended since the attacks. “Look, Renee… I don’t think I can help your mate… but maybe I can help you and your family”</p><p>“Can we get asylum in Ireland?”, Renee asked, felling hopeful.   </p><p>“Oh, you… you don’t qualify for immediate asylum, anywhere”, the lawyer clarified rather awkwardly, much to the other woman’s very-visible disappointment. “You’re married, your husband is still a federal employee… you were never involved in providing, or seeking, an abortion, or permanent birth control, and you’re not Catholics, Jewish or Muslims. You are not being persecuted by your government”.</p><p>She didn’t add ‘<em>yet</em>’, but that word was floating in the room…  God only knew who would be targeted next. How long till something, anything, they did become illegal?</p><p>“If you don’t want to live in America anymore, you only have one legal option”, Ciara explained, as she searched inside her briefcase for papers she had brought from the embassy. They were proper forms to obtain Irish citizenship by naturalization. “Just bring them to the embassy tomorrow… with your mum’s birth certificate, that’s very important, and all the other documents on the list… I’ll make sure they’re given priority”.</p><p>Renee appeared very overwhelmed, somewhat hesitant, while silently looking at the forms.      </p><p>“They can’t hold you here if you’re a citizen of another country”, the lawyer insisted.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Bethesda, Maryland</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It was long after sundown when Larry finally went back home. He was more than anxious to see his wife and daughter. He smiled when he saw Zoey, already in pyjamas, playing safely with her baby puzzles inside her playpen.</p><p>Renee was sitting by the coffee table, filling out some paperwork… unsurprisingly, there was a bottle of scotch and a glass over the table. After being fired by her own husband, and watching her closest friend getting arrested, Larry didn’t blame her for drinking. He definitely needed a drink too.     </p><p>“Hey”, he greeted her, rather awkwardly, still ashamed of the role he had played. </p><p>“Hey”, she said, getting up and greeting him with kiss and a tight embrace. “I checked the entire house… no hidden mics or cams here”, she assured him, and could feel Larry’s body relaxing. </p><p>“Good”, he sighed, relieved that they could talk freely, and that Renee didn’t seem angry with him. He smiled, while running his finger though her auburn hair. “I’m so sorry, honey… I’m sorry… I had to go along with it”</p><p>“I know”, she assured him, with a hand on his cheek.  </p><p>“So, you don’t hate me?”</p><p>“Like I could ever hate you”, she whispered, echoing words he had said to her more than once. “I adore you”</p><p>He chuckled, taking off his tie and jacket, feeling like he could finally breathe. If he knew Renee was on his side, he could withstand the whole pandemonium. “Oh, this is such a nightmare… And I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve spent the whole day feeling like Judas”</p><p>Knowing he really needed it, Renee handed him a glass full of scotch. “Larry, what happened this morning, at the White House?”.</p><p>He said nothing for a moment, looking away as he had some of his drink. “George Winslow explained the new laws, and lectured us about how going back to traditional values is <em>the</em> answer to keep the country safe” He made another pause, to finish his drink. He hesitated before sharing the worst part. He didn’t want to freak her out even more. But Renee needed to know. “And to prove his point, he shared a photo of… his children”</p><p>Renee narrowed his eyes in confusion. “<em>His</em> children…?”</p><p>“That’s right. Apparently, he has<em> three</em> children now. Two boys about five or six years old, one is blonde and the other one is black, and a little girl about Zoey’s age named Polly, also black”, Larry confirmed, while Renee sat down on the arm of the couch, to overcome the shock. He was only mentioning the kid’s races to stress the fact that George and his wife, both white, hadn’t made those kids themselves. The kids must have been taken from someone. It could have been for a valid reason… maybe the biological parents were truly awful, or simply didn’t want kids… but, maybe... maybe not. What if…? It was a scary thought. “Out of nowhere, he has three kids and said those kids were saved from <em>morally unfit</em> parents… and then I remembered…”</p><p>“That his biggest client decides who’s morally unfit now”, she finished her husband’s sentence. He nodded, looking more defeated than ever. But, watching their precious toddler playing near them, Renee couldn’t blame Larry for being too scared of losing her. “No wonder you caved”  </p><p>“I can’t believe this’s happening”, he could hardly speak as the anger and self-loathe run through his entire body. He had first believed The Sons of Jacob were not as dangerous as they seemed, and then he had believed the transitional government was merely trying to restore a broken nation. Now, faced with the truth, it seemed too late. “How the hell are we going to fix this?”, he asked his wife, with visible desperation in his voice and eyes.</p><p>“There’s no way to fix this, Larry”, Renee whispered, with her voice nearly breaking and moistened eyes. She had already over-analysed the situation and arrived to the painful conclusion. “Not from here, not if they can watch our every move and just rip us apart whenever they want… we have to go where they can’t touch us, and take it from there”    </p><p>Larry nodded in agreement. “So, should we try to make a run to Canada?”</p><p>Renee shook her head. “Too risky. If we get caught trying to leave the country now, they’ll definitely arrest us and take Zoey… and even if we make it, by some miracle, there’s no guarantee that Canada will take us…”. She then handed Larry the forms she had been filling out: APPLICATION FOR IRISH CITIZENSHIP BY NATURALIZATION. “This is the safest way”</p><p>Larry read the forms very quickly, and, without saying a word, without any hesitation, he signed his name wherever it was needed.</p><p>Soon, it was time to take Zoey to her bedroom. Renee put her inside the crib, caressing the toddler’s short hair and realizing her baby, being 32 inches tall, was getting too big for a crib.</p><p>“She’ll need a toddler bed soon”, she said.</p><p>“We’ll buy her one once we get to… wherever we go next”, he said, squeezing Renee’s hand, as they both kept staring at Zoey, who was rapidly falling asleep. “She’s looking more like you every day”</p><p>“Except she has your nose”, Renee pointed out, not for the first time. While her own nose was small and flat, the baby’s nose was slightly big with a curbed bridge… identical to Larry’s.   </p><p>“Haven’t I apologized enough for that?”, Larry groaned, only half-kidding. </p><p>Renee chuckled and playfully hit him with one of Zoey’s teddy bears. “Hey, remember, I fell in love with that nose”. She then pulled him closer to him and caressed his lips with hers. “I’m sorry your birthday turned out to be so awful”</p><p>“It’s not your fault”, he reminded her, with a sad sight. “Now we should go to bed”. Renee nodded, but seemed reluctant to move. He could guess why. “You want to move Zoey’s crib to our bedroom tonight?”   </p><p>“Yeah… I really do”</p><p>Together, they managed to put Zoey’s crib in the main bedroom, next to their bed. The baby was so exhausted, that she barely stirred a little, before going back to sleep.</p><p>Finally, Renee could rest her head on Larry’s chest, as they laid in bed together. They were both drained, but too anxious to sleep as they tried to make peace with the idea of building a whole new life away from the United States, without the FBI.</p><p>“Hey, remember my 37<sup>th</sup> birthday?”, he asked her, while running his fingers through her hair, in that way she always found soothing, and that always calmed him too.</p><p>“I’ll never forget it”, she stated with a smile on her face. The first birthday they had celebrated together after the beginning of their relationship. They had gone star gazing to Cherry Springs state park. It had been one of the most meaningful, magical and crazy weekends in both their lifetimes. Barely two months into their relationship, but they ended up engaged.</p><p>“When we saw The Perseids meteor shower, and I made a wish… my wish was not about work or about this country…”, he pointed out. “My wish was to spend the rest of my life with you… So, I think that, if we stick together…”  </p><p>“We can be happy anywhere”, Renee concluded for him, feeling calmer than she had all day. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>12th October 2013</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>It was a beautiful Autumn day. Renee was taking a long walk around her neighborhood, as Zoey sat in her stroller, drinking juice from the zippy cup. Walking was pretty much all she could do these days. Waiting for the EU passports to arrive, so she could finally take off with her family, was driving her insane. She spent her days looking after her daughter and the house, making preparation for the impeding exile. It was driving her insane, although she tried to enjoy having time with her beautiful daughter and her books.</p><p>She walked into a bakery, to purchase some pastries.</p><p>“Good morning” she greeted.</p><p>“Blessed day, ma’am!” the man working behind the counter greeted cheerfully. “We’ve been sent good weather”</p><p>Renee made an effort to just nod and smile. Many citizens genuinely liked the idea of a more spiritual life and had started mimicking some expressions heard on the media, now controlled 100% by the ‘Committee For National Restoration’ (a committee that kept failing to actually <em>restore</em> anything). It was freaking her out.</p><p>She ordered and paid for her pastries with a card that now said ‘Mrs. Lawrence Moss’. There was no cash anywhere anymore. Women had lost access to their bank accounts, right after losing their jobs. She just had a card with Larry’s name on it, and HE had to transfer whatever amount he wanted. Not that Larry didn’t give her all she needed, whenever she asked for it. But it was still humiliating.</p><p>What would be next? She wondered. </p><p>But, at least, she was not ‘disappeared’ like Janis, and many other well-educated, middle-aged, unmarried women… who had fallen into some sort of black hole. There was no official explanation, or way to know about their whereabouts.</p><p>As they left the bakery and walked towards the one bookstore left in Bethesda, she noticed that the last boutique open in the area was being shut down. In fact, the few stores that remained open were grocery stores, bakeries, fish or meat shops. And their signs were being replaced by soldiers.</p><p>With a sense of dread growing inside her, she began walking faster, until she reached the last bookstore left in Bethesda. It had been shut down.</p><p>She barely had any time to dwell on that. </p><p>As she kept walking, she saw that even the church where she and Larry had gotten married in 2010 was being teared down. The huge ‘<em>Bethesda United Methodist Church’</em> was already on the ground. A Christian church was the last place she had expected this government to shut down.</p><p>Her need to know what had happened was more powerful than her desire to avoid any soldier. So, she approached one of the soldiers, making an effort to act like a normal curious bystander. “Blessed day, sir… what’s happening with this church?”</p><p>“It’s being repurposed, ma’am”, the young man just said, with a flat tone. “It’ll be turned into a proper house of worship. By His hand”.</p><p>“But, what about Reverend Whitman and his family?”, she mumbled, barely masking her horror when she noticed another soldier seemed to be cleaning up blood from the door of the church. </p><p>The soldier’s face darkened. Other bystanders approached, also curious to see what was happening. So, the soldier took the opportunity to give everyone an important lesson about messing with the new laws. “The man in charge of this so-called church was reported for marrying degenerates and divorcees. Now that our laws finally reflect the Word of God, such actions won’t be tolerated”   </p><p>Renee could feel all colour leaving her face, and felt her stomach twitching. Lucky for her, nobody noticed her tears of anger and disgust, and her dread.</p><p>She walked back to her house, as fast as possible. She grabbed her cellphone to call Larry. But she remembered communications were being closely monitored. They wouldn’t be able to talk freely. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to take a big risk and go talk to her husband in person.</p><p>As she drove to DC, she heard an official radio report from the government confirming that all second marriages were now criminalized, and considered ‘adultery’.</p><p>Her heart was pumping fast with dread as she passed the security checkpoint. But she wasn’t stopped. As she had hoped, their system wasn’t up to date… yet, and orders to arrest all the known ‘adulterers’ hadn’t been issued… yet.</p><p>She sighed relieved when she reached the FBI DC field office.  </p><p>She spotted two soldiers by the main entrance and approached them, still trying to act natural.</p><p>“Blessed day”</p><p>“Blessed day, ma’am”, a soldier greeted.</p><p>“Please, I need to see my husband, who works here. Just for a second”</p><p>“Who’s your husband?”</p><p>“Assistant-Director Larry Moss”, she answered. She pouted, making her best ‘damsel in distress’ impression. “Please, I’m afraid I lost the keys to my house. I need my Larry to give me his. I have to go home to give the baby a bath, clean up and make dinner”</p><p>“Okay, Mrs. Moss. But try to be quick”</p><p>“Absolutely”, she promised.   </p><p>“Under His Eye”, the soldier said formally, as he opened the door for her.</p><p>“Under His Eye”, she mumbled awkwardly, and walked into the building right away.</p><p>Larry was in his office. He was supposed to be working. The FBI had been used just as a tool against anyone The Committee disliked lately, and he had reluctantly played along to buy time for his family to get away. But now he realised they were out of time… they were coming after him. So, he was planning the best route to take Renee and Zoey to Canada without getting caught. He startled when he saw them in the office.   </p><p>He rushed to hold them as tight as he could. He was panicking as much as Renee was.  </p><p>“dada! Dada!!”, Zoey giggled, stretching her arms towards him, excited to see her dad.</p><p>Larry picked her up, and Zoey rested her head on his chest.</p><p>“Did you hear about…?”, Renee asked him. But, basing on the fear in her husband’s eyes, she could tell he already knew.  </p><p>Larry nodded, and pulled Renee closer to him to speak in her ear, so it wouldn’t be picked up by any hidden mic. “Yes. We can’t wait for the documents anymore. Let’s get out of here”</p><p>But first, he made sure to take something important he had hidden behind the plate of an electrical outlet in the office. To Renee’s confusion, he used an old small coin to unscrew the plate of the outlet and retrieved a micro-SD card.</p><p>“What’s that?”, she whispered.</p><p>He got closer to her again. “I’ve been talking to an informant, a woman who used to work for Alan Wilson… Look, I don’t have time to explain now… We just need to take this card with us and hand it to international authorities”</p><p>Suddenly, Larry’s Ipad began beeping with a potential security alert from the cameras of the building. He could see on the screen that ten unmarked black vans had arrived to the parking lot at the same time. Dozens of soldiers with gun-machines and full-body armor got out of them.</p><p>With a terrible feeling inside, Larry sneaked Renee and Zoey into the nearest interrogation room, where they could try to hide. The door had a panel to type the access number. Renee could break it, and it wouldn’t be accessible from outside.</p><p>“Stay here”, he said, handing her his gun, although it’d be no match for so many soldiers in full-body armour. He also gave her his IPad, so she could monitor the building’s security cameras, and the memory card. “You can see here when they leave”</p><p>“Dada! Dada!”, Zoe whined, starting to cry. She didn’t know what was happening, but she felt scared because she sensed her parents were terrified.   </p><p>“It’ll be okay, princess” Larry gave his daughter a kiss and tight embrace.</p><p>“Stay with us”, Renee begged him, pulling him closer to her for a kiss.</p><p>“They know I’m in the building”, Larry said, with his voice nearly breaking. He was beginning to realize it was probably too late to save himself. But, maybe, he could still keep them away from his family. “It’ll be okay”, he tried to assure her, with one last kiss. </p><p>After he left, Renee broke the door’s panel locking herself in. She sat with Zoey on the floor, under the glass through which she had watched so many interrogations in the past. She prayed not to be seen.</p><p>Larry headed to the bullpen. It wasn’t even surprising, at this point, to see that George Winslow himself had arrived along with the soldiers.</p><p>“Gather all the men in the gymnasium”, George ordered one of the soldiers.</p><p>“What’s going on?”, Larry asked, trying to sound confident. This was still his office, as far as everyone knew. </p><p>“Blessed day, Agent Moss”, Winslow said with an arrogant smirk.</p><p>“What are you doing, George?”, Larry bluntly asked him, not bothering with any fake respect and pleasantries. Not anymore.</p><p>Nobody answered him. Larry was practically dragged, along with others agents and analysts, to the gymnasium that the field agents used for combat and physical training. Larry noticed, much to his horror, that some agents were gladly following and even assisting the soldiers, since they had been supporters of the new government all along.  </p><p>Once everyone was gathered inside, George Winslow spoke:</p><p>“The committee…”</p><p>Larry noticed the man didn’t say Committee for National Restoration. They were no longer pretending it was all temporary. He also noticed that Winslow was the only one without a full-body armour, just a black suit… the soldiers were Winslow’s armour.</p><p>“The committee cares greatly about safety”, Winslow continued. “Our blessed nation needs good men to make sure our people are safe and living righteous lives, by the word of God. It’s clear that the FBI, the CIA and CTU are not doing so. They are corrupted”</p><p>Larry looked around, trying to figure out how to steal a machine gun and escape with his wife and kid, only to discover with despair that there was no way to doing so without getting himself killed instantly. And how would that help anyone? Nobody there knew what they could do. Too many young soldiers with gun machines. Larry wondered why those kids had sold their souls like that. Desperate for jobs? With most stores and industries closing, what else was a man to do? No household had two incomes anymore. Or perhaps they had been brainwashed by all the propaganda and fake news that The Sons of Jacob had been introducing into society since long before the takeover.</p><p>“Therefore…”, Winslow carried on with his speech. “Effective immediately, those agencies no longer exist. Instead, the safety of our republic will be in charge of The Guardians of The Faith. Those of you who are free of sin have nothing to fear, and will be employed as such guardians…”, he assured the men. Then his features became much sinister. “Now, the following former agents must step forward… Tim Moran, Mark Dornan and Jason Reed”</p><p>Those men had only one thing in common. Everyone knew what. The room was full with dread. Yet, nobody dared to act. That sort of inertia had been a constant in the nation. The Committee had made sure of that by installing fear. </p><p>As they step forward, Winslow read their charges:       </p><p>“The three of you are in violation of Levitucus 18:22: You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination”.</p><p>Mark stepped forward, trying to keep a defiant demeanor. “Today is Saturday, so you and all your soldiers are in violation of Exodus 35:2: Anyone works on sabbath day shall be put to death". He then spitted on Winslow’s face. Almost instantly, the nearest soldier hit Mark, pushing him against the wall and forcing him to stand. </p><p>“Now I need the following agents to step forward: Sean Hillinger, Darren Powell, Jim Rosser…” He made a pause, and smirked looking towards Larry, clearly taking some sick pleasure out of what would come next. “and Lawrence Moss… The four of you have violated the Seventh Commandment: Thou shalt not commit adultery”.</p><p>“That’s bullshit!”, Larry snapped, rushing towards Winslow. He managed to punch him once before being, predictably, stopped by the soldiers.</p><p>He got promptly dragged and pushed against the wall. So did the other agents who had been named and tried to struggle. Most of the men there assumed that the unfortunate agents by the wall were being arrested, would serve time in prison, and then released. Very few were fully aware of how evil the new regime was.</p><p>“Now”, Winslow brusquely commanded his soldiers.</p><p>“Oh, God…”</p><p>The last thing Larry saw was a soldier pointing a machine gun at him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. It's a wild world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jan 2008: The night before Renee leaves for New York, to work undercover with the Russian mob, Larry shows his feelings in an embarrassing way.   <br/>Oct 2013: New rulers reveal their true intentions, as the USA becomes The Divine Republic of Gilead. And Larry's murder by the hands of The Sons of Jacob is only the beginning of Renee's nightmare.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2021 is much better for the world. <br/>- The songs used in this chapter are: "Wild World", by Cat Stevens, and "One of Us", covered by Alanis Morrissette. Don't belong to me. <br/>- In 'The Handmaid's Tale' second novel, Aunt Elizabeth is described as a Vassar-educated woman, who once worked for 'a female Senator with presidential potential' and was violently coerced to become an Aunt. So, I used such background for this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>January 11th, 2008</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Georgetown Piano Bar, Georgetown, Washington DC.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>A waiter served a third tray full of colourful drinks to the group of FBI agents, who had gathered after work to celebrate a special occasion. </p><p>Agent Tim Moran lifted one of the glasses saying: “Here’s to Agent Renee Walker, it’s been an honor working with you for the last two years, and we’ll all miss you”</p><p>“Whatever your assignment is, I’m sure you’ll crush it, Agent Walker”, Agent Jason Reed added, with a genuine smile, while lifting his own drink.</p><p>“Thank you, guys”, Renee chuckled, trying not to show she felt nervous about her mission. She knew how dangerous it’d be, how much she’d be sacrificing. But she felt ready. <em>If not now, when</em>? After losing her mom to cancer, she saw no reason, at all, to stay in DC… not when the FBI needed her in New York. “And I’d like to thank our boss…” She trailed off as she noticed the empty chair with Larry’s coat. But the man himself was nowhere around. “Wait… Where’s Larry?”</p><p>“Oh, no!”, Janis Gold gasped, with dread in her features, pointing at the stage.</p><p>They all looked in that direction and spotted Larry, talking to the organisers of the karaoke night. He seemed about to perform. His skin looked reddish, his shirt was unbuttoned, and his blue tie had disappeared sometime after his fourth tequila.</p><p>The song Wild World, by Cat Stevens began playing, and Larry began singing, slightly off key. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Now that I've lost everything to you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You say you want to start something new, and it's breaking my heart</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You're leaving.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Baby, I'm grieving</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Renee hid her face between her hands, mortified. Everyone could tell he was singing to her. She knew he was unhappy about her leaving to New York… he was unhappy about many things lately. They could barely control their emotions, and their friendship had gotten overcomplicated by some forbidden kissing. But she still couldn’t believe he was embarrassing her, and himself, like this.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But if you want to leave, take good care</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hope you have a lot of nice things to wear</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But then a lot of nice things turn bad out there</em>
</p><p> </p><p>To Renee’s horror, agents Moran and Dornan joined Larry as his backup singers, much to his delight. Everyone at the bar went wild, cheering and singing along.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh baby, baby, it's a wild world</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's hard to get by just upon a smile</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh baby, baby, it's a wild world</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'll always remember you like a child, girl</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Renee finished her single-malt scotch quickly, wishing she could just disappear under one of the tables. Some of the other agents were looking at her and murmuring to each other. It was their office’s worst kept secret that their married boss had a crush on her. There were plenty of rumours and speculations, but nobody ever dared to say anything out loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You know I've seen a lot of what the world can do</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And it's breaking my heart in two</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Cause I never want to see you sad, girl</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don't be a bad girl</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As Larry kept singing, Renee headed towards the bar, to get herself another drink.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But if you want to leave, take good care</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware… Beware</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh baby, baby it's a wild world</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's hard to get by just upon a smile</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh baby, baby it's a wild world</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I'll always remember you like a child, girl</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Baby, I love you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But if you want to leave take good care</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware… Beware</em>
</p><p> </p><p>After the song was over, Larry headed to where Renee was sitting by herself, with a still-full drink in her hands. He sat very close to her, too close, placing a hand on her back. “Hey”  </p><p>“Is that what you really think?”, she snapped, moving away, feeling heartbroken for more than one reason. “I’m some innocent girl, trying to get by upon a smile?”</p><p>“Wow… wow… I don’t think that”, Larry said, slurring his words slightly, putting his arm around her again. He hadn’t even considered how that song could be interpreted. “It’s a song… just a song… it’s not like I could sing <em>If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right</em> in front of everyone”.</p><p>Renee looked down at her drink, saying nothing, feeling only bitterness. </p><p>After taking another shot of tequila, Larry began humming softly, “<em>If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right. If being right means being without you, I'd rather live a wrong doing life</em>”</p><p>“Please, stop”, she begged, placing a hand on his lips. He was killing her. Their forbidden feelings for each other had been shattering both of them for a while.</p><p>“Please, don’t leave to New York”, he pleaded in return. “I’m so worried about you” </p><p>“You don’t think I can break Laitanan’s ring?”, she asked, as if challenging him to be honest. Larry was the only one who knew about her assignment, and he had been against it from the start. Were his objections about her competence? Or was he just letting his personal feelings cloud him? She hated that, instead of having an frank conversation about it, he had gotten drunk and embarrassed both of them. For the first time, ever, she was disappointed by him. </p><p>“Of course you can!”, Larry replied, quickly. “I mean… look at you! You are absolutely stunning. That’s right. I said it... You are gorgeous”</p><p>She stared at him in disbelief, outraged by the insinuation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Having to get romantically involved with her target was a strong possibility. She didn’t need Larry, of all people, to remind her of that. She was smart enough to know, and yet stubborn enough to be on denial and tell herself she’d be able to avoid it.</p><p>“Nothing. I don’t know what I’m saying”, he desperately tried to back down, just now realising how his words had been insulting. His mind was quite foggy. “I mean, you are beautiful, but you are also incredibly smart, competent. The best agent I’ve ever met in my life”</p><p>“Then why are you being such a condescending jerk?”</p><p>“I think you know why”, he whispered, putting an arm around her once again, resting his forehead on hers. “I don’t want you to leave. I really don’t”.</p><p>“Larry, please, stop… We can’t do this”. Renee forced herself to move away from him. “You have to go home now, go back to your wife”</p><p>“Oh, God”, Larry groaned. He couldn’t believe what he had become. He was drunk at some bar, crazy in-love with one of his subordinates, singing at her, touching her, begging her to stay… all of which was a violation of his wedding vows… <em>and</em> the FBI’s code of conduct. He could hardly recognise himself. He had to be suffering of some sort of mental breakdown. He <em>had </em>to go back home. But he could barely walk straight. “Carla will kill me if I go home drunk again”</p><p>“Okay. I’ll buy you coffee, and then I’ll put you in a taxi”, Renee suggested.</p><p>He agreed, not seeing any other choice. After saying goodbye to everyone, they grabbed their coats and walked out of the bar. Larry was stumbling and Renee grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.</p><p>“Come on… there’s a Starbucks across the street”</p><p>The cold winter air was already helping clearing his head a little. He couldn’t believe alcohol had affected him so badly. He wasn’t used to drinking as much. He was impressed by how Renee held her liquor. “You were drinking too, and you’re tiny… how come you’re not wasted?”</p><p>“I’m fifty percent Irish and twelve percent Russian”, she replied with a casual shrug, dragging a bitter chuckle out of him.   </p><p>They were soon inside a Starbucks, with huge mugs full of black coffee in front of them.</p><p>“So, when are you planning to meet Laitanan?”. He put too much sugar in his coffee, but nothing could mask the bitterness inside him. </p><p>“This Sunday. There’s a mixer at his temple in Brighton Beach”, she replied. Vladimir went to a Russian Ortodox church, which she was planning to join as Renee Zadan.</p><p>“His <em>temple</em>?” Larry busted laughing so loudly that other coffee-drinkers turned around to look at him. “Sorry… sorry” He lifted his hands in apology. “I’m just picturing him praying <em>Dear Lord, thanks for the hookers, and please, no FBI</em>”, he said trying to imitate a heavy Russian accent. </p><p>“It’s a funny irony”, she had to admit, with a chuckle.</p><p>Larry held her hand and they stared into each other’s eyes. Both suddenly feeling very sad.</p><p>“Please, don’t go”, he begged, once again. </p><p>She moved her hand away. Very uncomfortable. “I made a commitment”</p><p>“I can easily get you out”, he assured her, taking his cellphone from his pocket. “I call your case officer, right now… what’s his name?” He was very familiar with the case officer in question, but his mind was still a cloudy daze. “Right, Mel Lundy”</p><p>“It’s late. He must be sleeping by now”</p><p>“Then I’ll text him. He’ll see it tomorrow”, he said, and began typing something on his cell, while reading out loud. “<em>Dear New York, I won’t let you take my best agent. Respectfully, AD Larry Moss. P.S. Fuck The Knicks</em>” </p><p>“Fuck the Knicks?”, she raised her eyebrows, alarmed. “Please, tell me you didn’t send that”</p><p>“I’m not that drunk”, he reassured her with a smirk, putting the cellphone aside. He had more coffee, as if trying to clear the fog still in his mind. “Look, it’s been weird between us… but it’s not your fault… I don’t want you to leave… you don’t have to go to New York”</p><p>“Yes, I do”, she argued, on the verge of crying. It was the first truly honest, hand on their hearts, conversation they had ever had about their feelings. “I have nothing here anymore. Nothing. My mom’s gone. And I can’t keep working for you… it’s been too difficult”</p><p>He looked stricken with guilt. “You know I have feelings for you too, but…”</p><p>“But you’re married. You took a vow, for life”, she barely managed to keep her voice steady. </p><p>Larry nodded, and swallowed the lump of angst forming in his throat. He was too aware of his obligations. “This hasn’t been easy for me either”, he admitted softly. He looked his wedding ring and let out a resigned sigh. “I know I have to work on my marriage… I have to, but…”</p><p>Renee interrupted him, before he could say something that’d make it all more painful. “It’ll be easier without me around”, she assured him, seeming very certain. A part of her wondered if Larry’s feelings for her were real, or just some wild fantasy he was having because his marriage had gotten boring after 16 years. “I’m in the way”</p><p>“No. Don’t say that”, he scolded her, shaking his head. After two black coffees, his mind was much clearer. The idea of Renee going to New York, because he couldn’t control his feelings around her was making him sick with guilt. He knew it wasn’t fair, or right. “Listen, I meant it… I can get you out of the assignment. Please, don’t leave because of me…”.</p><p>“I’m leaving because I want to”, she insisted, with her firmest tone. “It’s what I need to do now”</p><p>“But why <em>this</em> assignment?”, Larry then asked, with desperation in his big blue eyes. “If you want to move, you could get transferred to the office in New York. I bet you’d be running it in a few years…”. A tiny proud smile appeared briefly on his lips when he pictured Renee as Assistant Director of FBI NY Field office. It was the life she deserved. “You don’t have to go undercover”</p><p>“You think I don’t know that?”, she scoffed, growing frustrated with him. “I want to do this… they’ve been trying to arrest Laitanan and break his ring for so long, but nobody can get close enough. He’s been getting away with everything… He needs to be stopped”  </p><p>“I know”, Larry agreed, with a nod. He then softened and couldn’t help to hold her hands between his. “But this is too dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt… I only care about you”</p><p>“I’ll be fine, Larry”, she snapped, pulling her hands away from him. She felt he was underestimating her, and she resented that. “I know you’ll always… <em>remember me like a child</em>”, she rolled her eyes while paraphrasing the words of the song he had sung for her. “But I’m a grown woman. I can protect myself, and I can break that bastard’s gang”</p><p>“At what cost?”, he asked, growing exasperated. His desperation to change her mind was overpowering. He couldn’t stop thinking about what his own mother had experienced during an undercover mission. “Will you be able to live with yourself afterwards? Because if you think that you can earn their trust just by showing up at some temple mixer with cookies, you’re delusional….”</p><p>Renee didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. She brusquely stood up and handed him her FBI badge, since she couldn’t have it with her while undercover. </p><p>“Goodbye, Larry… good luck with your wife”.</p><p>As she walked away from the table, her eyes moistened with unshed tears.</p><p>Feeling beyond helpless, Larry followed her outside, where a light snow was beginning to fall from the black sky. “Renee, wait…”</p><p>“What?”, she snapped, out of patience, as she turned around to face him. In spite of the blue parka covering her, she was feeling the cold air in her bones.</p><p>“Will you come back to DC?”. The idea of never seeing her again was more than he could bear. “After Laitanan is in jail, I mean, will you move back here?”</p><p>Renee took a moment to ponder about the question. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Moving back to Washington would be the best for her career. But she’d have to work for Larry again. So close to him, but unable to be with him. Loving and hating the universe for putting him in her life. Then going home alone at night, and undressing herself thinking of his hands touching every button she undid. Or going to some bar, hunting for some poor substitute of Larry to make the nights shorter. Right then, she wasn’t sure if she could handle more of that.</p><p>“I don’t think so, Larry”, she finally admitted.</p><p>He looked at her as if he had just been stabbed on the gut.</p><p>They both suddenly feared this could, perhaps, be their last moment together, ever.  </p><p>She approached him, put her hands on his cheeks and, standing on her tiptoes, brushed his lips with hers, very slowly. Larry put his arms around her, bringing her even closer to him, as a light snow kept falling on their heads. </p><p>The kiss soon became too intense, and they knew it was time to stop.</p><p>“You have to go home”, Renee reminded him.</p><p>“Listen…”, he whispered, with his arms still around her, not ready to say goodbye yet. “Agent Lundy just wants to make the arrest and break the ring. But I’ll always care about you. So, please, if you are in trouble and want to call the operation off, let <em>me</em> know”</p><p>“Okay”, she agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “I’ll text you Fuck the Knicks, and you’ll know I want out”  </p><p>Larry let out a bittersweet chuckle. “Okay”</p><p>They kissed one last time. She reluctantly stepped back, ran her hands through his hair, till it looked less messy. She straightened his blue tie, buttoned his coat and then wiped her own lipstick from his lips with her thumb.   </p><p>“Thank you”, he squeezed her hand. His eyes conveyed exactly why he was thanking her.</p><p>“No problem”, she assured him, trying to keep a steady tone. </p><p>When he finally got into the back of a taxi, they were both in tears.   </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>12th October, 2013</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FBI Field Office, Washington DC.</strong>
</p><p>Larry was dragged and pushed against the wall of the gymnasium, along with six other agents.</p><p>“Now”, George Winslow brusquely commanded his soldiers.</p><p>Without a hint of hesitation, his soldiers fired their gun machines against the seven FBI agents who had been forced to stand against a wall.</p><p>Meanwhile, hidden inside the locked interrogation room, Renee watched the horror unravelling in the gymnasium through the screen of her iPad. She had never felt so damn helpless.</p><p>She broke down sobbing, as her entire body trembled. She held on to Zoey as tight as possible. Her daughter also began crying loudly, although was too young to understand what was happening.  </p><p>Nobody could hear what happened inside the interrogation room without activating the intercom.  Yet, Renee knew they would be found. It was inevitable.</p><p>She took a glance at the iPad. George Winslow reminded the surviving former FBI agents that, being free of sin, they would get to be Guardians of The Faith. Unless, of course, they preferred to die.</p><p>The soldiers were picking up the corpses, getting ready to hang them from the roof of the building… as an example for any living person still harbouring rebellious illusions.</p><p>Renee broke down in sobs again when she saw them dragging Larry’s body away. There he was. The best man she had ever met. Just a lifeless form now.</p><p>But she had no time to grieve. They’d find her and her baby soon, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. She had Larry’s gun, but she was no match for dozens of soldiers with Colt M4A1 carbines.</p><p>In that moment of despair, Renee couldn’t think of any way to save herself and her daughter. What would the soldiers do to them?</p><p>Then she remembered the micro-SD card in her hands, the card Larry had given her. All she knew is that it had data given by some secret informant, a former employee of Alan Wilson. Larry planned to hand it to international authorities, once it was safe. Whatever was in it, had to be very important. Renee knew she couldn’t let the soldiers take it… she couldn’t be captured, or killed, with it, or they’d find it and erase the content forever. What to do? Where to hide it?</p><p>She spotted the one electrical outlet in the interrogation room. Using Zoey’s hairpin, she unscrewed the plate of the outlet, hid the micro card inside, and screwed the plate back in. She hoped that, someday, somehow, the card would fall in the right hands. It was far from ideal. But she couldn’t think of anything better.</p><p>In the screen of the I-pad, she could see the soldiers approaching.</p><p>Renee put a hand over the golden crucifix around her neck. She remembered that night, over seven years ago, when her mother gave it to her. It had been in her family for generations. In a rush, she took it off and put it around Zoey’s neck, praying it would protect her.</p><p>As she waited for the inevitable, Renee held her crying daughter tight and whispered ‘<em>Mommy loves you</em>’ at her, over and over again.</p><p>Soon enough, several soldiers broke into the interrogation room. Two of them disarmed Renee and restrained her. She knew it’d be futile to fight, but her motherly instincts were too strong. She tried, in vain, to kick and bite the men, while struggling to hold on to a screaming Zoey for as long as possible. Despite her efforts, one soldier brusquely snatched Zoey.</p><p>“Mommy!!! Mommy!!”, Zoey screamed as loudly as possible.</p><p>As Renee struggled with the soldiers, her crying toddler grew distant and was carried farther and farther away.</p><p>“NO! Zoey!! Zoey!”</p><p>Then, one of the soldiers covered Renee’s mouth and nose with a cloth soaked in chloroform.</p><p>She kept struggling, till her mind became foggy and everything around her turned black.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Cambridge, Boston, Massachusetts. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>When Renee regained consciousness, she found herself alone in the back of a van. Her head was aching, her hands were tied behind her back by handcuffs, while a muzzle made of leather was covering her mouth. She had no idea where she was, or how for long she had been unconscious.</p><p>She noticed the air was much colder. Her lilac camisole and matching cardigan weren’t warm enough for wherever they were. She also noted that her jacket and shoes had been lost during the struggle with the soldiers.</p><p>As the vehicle moved fast, she stood up, struggling to keep her balance. She looked through the tiny windows, trying to find any clues of her current location.  </p><p>The sun was starting to go down, which meant it had been, roughly, eight hours since… those bastards executed Larry.    </p><p>She couldn’t afford to think about that. She had to focus on figuring out where she was, on finding a way out… a way to find Zoey.  </p><p>But nothing she saw gave her any clue. All she could see was colonial-style houses and soldiers hanging dead bodies, male and female bodies.</p><p>She even caught a quick glimpse of a man and a woman in civilian clothes, trying to run away and firing their guns at a bunch of soldiers…</p><p>Renee didn’t get to see how that gunfight ended, because the van where she was imprisoned accelerated away from that scene. But she imagined it didn’t end well for the civilians. </p><p>The civil war that had been brewing in the US for months, years, had now erupted.</p><p>Over and over again, she tried using her entire body to hit the door of the van open. But it was futile. The van made a brusque turn, and she fell down. Tears ran freely down her cheeks.</p><p>Where were they taking her? Had they been driving for eight hours? Why did they bother taking her alive? Why didn’t they just kill her? They appeared to be killing every other dissident. What did they want from her?</p><p>She somehow managed to stand up again, to keep looking through the windows in the van. The van stopped brusquely, but she kept her balance. She spotted two soldiers dragging another woman towards the van. The woman had short black curls, brownish skin and wore a heavy cream coat. That woman was also handcuffed, but had no muzzle.</p><p>Renee overheard the soldiers speaking to each other:</p><p>“We found this whore on the streets, shaking and begging for a fix. Her identity card’s been red-flagged, so…”</p><p>“Understood”, another soldier replied. “We’re on our way to The Red Centre. We’ll take her”</p><p>“Under His eye”</p><p>“Under His Eye”</p><p>Renee prepared herself to run away once they opened the doors of the van, to bring the new prisoner in. But the soldiers were ready for such possibility. She was instantly grabbed by two men, who shoved her violently into the van, as far from the door as possible. She found herself on the floor of the vehicle, feeling helpless, once again.</p><p>Soon, the door was closed and the van restarted making its way towards the ‘<em>Red Centre</em>’… whatever that was.</p><p>Renee got in a sitting position and stared at the other prisoner, wondering if that stranger would be any help… but the other woman was in no shape to help, already experiencing what looked like severe withdrawal symptoms. Basing on what Renee’s knew about narcotics, the stranger had been without opioids for about two or three days. It wasn’t that surprising, given that recreational drugs had become much harder to find. Her dealer had probably been murdered by the regime a while ago. And that was why so many people had embraced the new government back in February… the notion that only ‘bad people’ got hurt or killed… Only bad people like thieves, rapists, whores, drug-dealers, or terrorists, were being harshly punished and lost their children forever. Nothing bad would happen to anyone decent. Even Larry and herself had fallen for that lie at some point…  </p><p><em>‘Then they came for us…</em>’, Renee thought, as tears fell from her eyes. ‘<em>How could we be so stupid?’</em></p><p>“What’s happening?”, the other woman groaned, realizing she was not the only one in the vehicle. She still couldn’t think too clearly, though. Her entire body aching, and twitching out of control.</p><p>Unable to speak, Renee just shook her head.</p><p>The other woman tried to sit, but winded up puking.</p><p>Soon enough, the van made a brusque stop. Then four soldiers opened the door and dragged the women out of the vehicle.</p><p>Renee saw a big modern-looking building, with seashell walls and two white columns. A sign still said: <em>‘Cambridge Rindge and Latin school’</em>, but two men on high ladders were taking down those letters, one by one. </p><p>Once inside, the soldiers were greeted by a short, chubby, woman in her late-50’s, with dark brown hair pulled back in an updo. This woman was wearing a sombre brown dress and a big belt holding a cattle prod. She reminded Renee of the nuns at her catholic school, only creepier.</p><p>“I’m Aunt Lydia, I’m in charge of this Rachel and Leah centre”, the strange woman told the soldiers, and then directed her small blue eyes towards the black-haired prisoner, who was trembling and could barely stand on her own. “What do we have here?”</p><p>A soldier handed an ID card with the name: ‘<em>Lillian Fuller</em>’ and explained: “They found this junkie whore on the streets, and her ID’s been red-flagged in the system… she belongs to your program”</p><p>“Oh, well, lucky you, Lillian”, Aunt Lydia greeted with enthusiasm. “You’ll begin a virtuous life now”</p><p>“Lillie… I go by Lillie”, the younger woman mumbled, still pained and trembling, not understanding exactly what was happening. She assumed the new government was forcing some weird detox program on drug-addicts like herself. They had already taken away her two children. “Is this rehab?”</p><p>“It’s rehab for your soul, dear”, Lydia replied, patting the taller woman on the head. And just with a nod, she had some other women in brown dresses drag Lillie away, in an instant.</p><p>Then Lydia focused on the red-haired prisoner, who kept grunting and trying to struggle in vain with the two soldiers restraining her. “I take it that’s the one from DC”</p><p>Lydia had been warned earlier that a new prisoner would be arriving from Washington DC, and had been given Renee’s file. She was deemed too dangerous, given her law-enforcement background. But a healthy womb and two healthy ovaries had made the former agent too valuable to kill.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am”, a corpulent soldier promptly confirmed, handing an ID card saying ‘<em>Renee Walker-Moss’</em>. “You’ll have to be careful with her, ma’am. She’s a kicker, a biter and a spitter”.</p><p>“Well, we have special rooms in the second floor for trouble-makers”, Aunt Lydia said, smirking at the prisoner with irony, as if thinking ‘<em>nice try… but I will break you’</em>.</p><p>Renee wanted to scream, but the muzzle was keeping her mouth shut tight. </p><p>Lydia directed the way, while soldiers manhandled Renee towards a corridor, to an elevator and then to a room in the second floor of the building.       </p><p>It appeared that the room had once been a classroom. It still had the blackboard attached to a wall. But that was the only indication of the room’s former purpose. It now had no furniture. Both windows had been covered with black paint, to prevent light coming from the outside world.  There was a plastic bucket and a thin mattress on the floor, next to a radiator attached to the wall… but the radiator wasn’t working. It was even colder inside the room than it was outside.</p><p>After an approving gesture from Lydia, the soldiers removed Renee’s muzzle and handcuffs.</p><p>“Where’s my daughter?”, Renee demanded in a heartbeat. “I want to see my baby… please, I just want to see her”</p><p>“She’s okay. She’s safe now”, Lydia assured her, with satisfaction. “But you’ll never see her again”.</p><p>Those words frightened Renee more than anything she had ever seen or heard before. Furious, she launched herself against Lydia, easily knocking the older woman to the floor, getting to punch her nose once. But soon the soldiers rushed to restrain the prisoner.    </p><p>Then Renee was hit with an electric cattle prod. All her muscles contracted. She felt to the floor, while a sharp pain ran through her body. She couldn’t react when she was chained to the radiator.  </p><p>“You can’t change any of this”, Lydia said with creepy calmness, while wiping some blood coming from inside her own nose. “The sooner you accept your new reality, the less pain you’ll feel”</p><p>“Go to hell”, Renee replied with all the defiance she could muster in her circumstances.</p><p>Lydia realised breaking this red-haired slut wouldn’t be too easy. “I guess you’ll stay here, until you’re ready to be a very good girl”</p><p>Renee was left alone, cold and surrounded by darkness. </p><p>She struggled with the chain that tied her wrists to a tube connecting the radiator and the wall… a chain just long enough for her to lie on the thin mattress, or grab the bucket, but not to stand on her feet. On her knees, she tried pulling the chain as hard as possible, attempting to break free. But it was impossible.</p><p>She hit the radiator many times in frustration, grunting and gasping for air… Once her eyes got used to the darkness, she tried to look around for anything that could be useful… but the only objects within her reach were the thin mattress and the stupid plastic bucket.</p><p>She failed to understand the purpose of that bucket… until she felt the inevitable need to use a toilet. Then Renee was hit by a horrifying realization: the bucket <em>was</em> her toilet… the only toilet she would get until she was ‘<em>ready to be a very good girl’</em>, as Lydia had said… whatever that meant.    </p><p>But she wasn’t about to beg for a real toilet. She wouldn’t give those bitches the satisfaction. As humiliating as it was, she settled for urinating inside the plastic container.</p><p>Then, she laid on the mattress, curled in a fetal position, shivering and bawling. Not knowing what else to do. What options she had? She couldn’t believe it was all real… How could her husband be dead? How could their baby girl have been taken by some strangers? It felt like a nightmare. Yet, it was real.</p><p>She and Larry had known for a while that their government was separating children from ‘<em>morally unfit</em>’ parents, so little children could be raised by Christian extremists. It was why Larry had pretended to cooperate with George Winslow for the last two months… So they wouldn’t take Zoey… to buy some time until the three of them could move to Ireland together. But now Larry was dead, and the three of them would never be together again…</p><p>Lying on that mattress, she noticed her wedding ring was also gone. She figured the soldiers must have stolen it while she was unconscious, adding insult to injury.</p><p>Silent tears fell from her eyes, as her mind fled to the moment Larry put that ring on her finger.</p><p>When exhaustion beat her, and she drifted off, she was brusquely woken up by the woman who called herself ‘Aunt Lydia’, who threw a gallon of ice water on her.</p><p>“You crazy bitch!”, Renee screamed, trying futilely to kick her captor. </p><p>Lydia promptly stepped away from the prisoner’s reach. “If you want this to stop, you have to be a very good girl”, she stated with a calm tone. “You should start with an apology for hitting me. Say: <em>I’m sorry, Aunt Lydia</em>”</p><p>“Fuck you! You’re not my fucking aunt! You’re a fucking bitch!”, Renee managed to yell. But she could feel her own resolve banishing. She was too weary, too cold, too emotionally shattered…</p><p>Then, she was left alone again, wheeping and shivering in the total darkness.</p><p>She felt physically drained, but her captors kept her awake. Twice, they dumped more ice-water on her… Another time, they beat her with a stick. On three occasions, she was startled awake by loud siren noises coming from a speaker attached to the ceiling of the room.  </p><p>Eventually, the bulkiest of the women in brown dresses, brought her food… a sandwich and fruit, already cut inside a bowl.</p><p>Renee could feel her stomach groan with hunger. But she wouldn’t take their food. She threw the plate with the sandwich and the fruit bowl right to the other side of the room, making the plate and bowl shatter against the wall. </p><p>“Ungrateful whore!”, the bulky woman screamed. Hatred incensed her russet eyes, as she repeatedly beat Renee with a black stick. “Disgusting sluts like you should be executed! We are letting you live! We’re feeding you! How dare you show no gratitude?!”</p><p>There was silence, as Renee was in too much pain to respond and was having trouble breathing.</p><p>“Apologize for that!”, the bulky woman then demanded, pointing at the broken dish and food scattered on the floor. “Say:<em> I’m sorry, Aunt Helena</em>”</p><p>“Go to hell”, Renee spitted out, and then added mockingly: “<em>Aunt</em> <em>Helena</em>”</p><p>Helena left the room without another word.</p><p>Renee wondered what those vicious women would do next… Soon enough, the radiator began emanating heat… it had finally been activated, somehow. She was puzzled. Why? Why would they want to make a cold room warmer, more comfortable?</p><p>The radiator’s heat soon increased, reaching its maximum capacity. She moved as far from the radiator as the chains allowed, which wasn’t that much to begin with.</p><p>“Fuck”, Renee whispered, eyes widening in anticipation of the horror that would happen next.</p><p>‘Aunt Helena’ returned to the room with two other women in brown dresses. They restrained Renee, ripped off her camisole, and pressed her bare back against the piping hot radiator. </p><p>Renee struggled in vain with her captors and screamed, feeling the skin of her back burning, as they held her against the heater for several minutes.</p><p>“<em>Blows that wound cleanse away evil… beatings make clean the innermost parts</em>!”, Helena shouted that biblical quote over her prisoner’s piercing screams.</p><p>When they left her alone again, she fell flat on the mattress, wheeping. She was unable to see how bad the burn was, but the pain from it was excruciating.</p><p>More hours went by… but she couldn’t tell how many. Eventually, a different ‘aunt’ in a brown-dress walked in, holding a tray with another sandwich and a yogurt.</p><p>“Fuck… you”, Renee groaned slowly, too weakened to yell. She wasn’t interested in any food.</p><p>“You’ve been here for two whole days”, the woman in brown pointed out, placing the tray within Renee’s reach, and quickly stepping back, somewhat fearfully. “If you don’t eat anything soon, we <em>will </em>make you… we <em>can’t</em> let you starve to death”    </p><p>“Why not?” Renee looked up at the stranger, now feeling somewhat intrigued. They had already killed her husband, and taken Zoey. What more could they want from her? She had overheard soldiers talking about the system ‘red-flagging’ ID cards, about a ‘program’, and she’d overheard them calling this place ‘The Red Centre’ and ‘Rachel and Leah Centre’. But she still didn’t know what those things meant. “What do you want?”</p><p>“You’ll find out soon enough”, the woman stated, with a grave tone. She wasn’t supposed to tell Renee about their plans for fertile women, just yet. Keeping the prisoner guessing their plans for a while longer was part of the phycological torture. “Now… eat”</p><p>After a brief moment of hesitation, Renee decided to accept the food, and mustered all her strength to get herself in a sitting position. If she remained alive, she had a tiny chance of finding and rescuing Zoey, somehow. She couldn’t give up on her baby girl. Larry wouldn’t want that. And, if the food had poison, or some strong sedative… well, at least the pain would end.</p><p>The woman in a brown dress watched the prisoner eat, from a safe distance.  </p><p>Renee stared back at that woman with curiosity. This captor looked familiar, somehow. She had seen that woman with chocolate-brown hair and hazel eyes before. But, where? She couldn’t place her.</p><p>“I know you”, Renee admitted with a blunt tone.</p><p>The ‘aunt’ seemed briefly startled, although tried to cover it up. “No, you don’t”</p><p>“Yes, I’ve seen you before”</p><p>“We never met”, the woman insisted with a firm tone.</p><p>Renee stared into the captor’s eyes, letting out the bitterest chuckle. The brown-haired woman was such a terrible liar. Renee used to wipe the floor with such pathetic liars. But now she found herself powerless… fallen, defeated… by a bunch of lunatics who claimed to be Christian.    </p><p>“<em>A lying tongue is an abomination to the Lord</em>”, Renee pointed out with sarcasm. It was a biblical quote the nuns from her catholic school, and her own mother, repeated often.</p><p>“Shut up and finish your meal!”. The woman used her most threatening tone and showed the cattle prod. “<em>Whoso keepeth his mouth and his tongue keepeth his soul from troubles.</em>”</p><p>Renee recognized that line from Proverbs 21. It had also been used against her, constantly, by the nuns in her old school. She had always struggled to stay silent and meek.  </p><p>As she swallowed the last of the yogurt, her eyes never left the other woman’s face. She was determined to remember who the green-eyed bitch was…  Suddenly, she remembered… and the shock nearly made her drop the little bowl in her hands.</p><p>“Oh, my God… you were executive assistant to Allison Taylor”. Renee felt her sanity was slipping away. The fact that a woman, any woman, worked for the regime was baffling and disheartening… but a woman that had once worked for a female senator, with presidential potential? How could that be? It was beyond insane. But Renee now remembered the woman in front of her. They had met a few times, back when the FBI was investigating threats against then Senator Taylor, over two years ago. It was coming back to her. “I saw you in her office and at her book launching party… your name’s Elizabeth, something… but they called you Birdie”    </p><p>“Stop it!”, Elizabeth snapped, hitting Renee with the cattle prod. The bowl in the prisoner’s hands crashed on the floor and broke into pieces. “That’s all in the past… it’s all gone”, she yelled, getting more and more incensed, sending electric shocks to Renee’s battered body. “Do you get it? I’m Aunt Elizabeth now. The past is gone! Do you understand?”</p><p>“Yes”, Renee barely managed to gasp for air, as she recovered from the pain of the shocks. There was so much she wanted to know… But she was in no position to get the answers.</p><p>While Renee was still pained on the floor, puking her meal, Elizabeth picked up the plate and pieces of bowl, so there was nothing sharp left at hand.</p><p>“You better understand something soon…”, Elizabeth said to her prisoner, using a surprisingly soft tone. “You can't change this. Not a thing. It doesn’t matter what you do… there's no point trying to be tough or brave. Everybody breaks…” her voice trembled. “<em>Everybody</em>” </p><p>Elizabeth left the room and locked it. But her entire body was shaking, rattled… partly by guilt, but mainly by the memory of her own recent trauma.</p><p>It was all too fresh… Merely ten weeks had passed since her own arrest. Ten weeks since some soldiers broke into her home and dragged her to the RFK Memorial Stadium, which had been turned into a slaughter house where unmarried, middle-aged, well-educated women were the animals to be butchered. Being only 35 years old, Elizabeth was among the youngest in the group. She didn’t know it then, but being diagnosed with early ovarian failure had placed her in that heard. After eight days of brutal torture in a dark room, she agreed to take the brown dress... It was either that, or face execution. To kill, or be killed.</p><p>She closed her eyes, trying not to shed tears and steadied herself resting her back against the door. </p><p>“Is there a problem, Aunt Elizabeth?”. Lydia’s tone was grave. Her small blue eyes narrowed. The plate and broken bowl in Elizabeth’s hands had been noticed. “Is that <em>slut </em>still causing trouble?”</p><p>“She recognised me, from before”, Elizabeth admitted softly, not looking directly at Lydia.</p><p>“We should discuss that in my office”, the older woman said solemnly, in a heartbeat.</p><p>They walked side-by-side, down the corridor…  passing by all the other ‘isolation rooms’ in that floor. They ignored the banging and screaming coming from inside them, and finally reached the office that had once belonged to the school’s principal.</p><p>Much to Elizabeth’s astonishment, Lydia took an unlabelled green glass bottle hidden inside a desk compartment, and two tiny liquor glasses. A few days earlier, The Committee had officially banned women from drinking alcohol. The only exception was for wives of important men, during special celebrations, provided that the husbands approved.     </p><p>“That… that’s forbidden now”, Elizabeth mumbled, wondering if it was a test.</p><p>“Not for us”, Lydia said with a tiny smirk, while filling up two glasses with sweet liquor.</p><p>Elizabeth then savoured the caramel liquor, with a smirk matching her new friend’s… now realizing that, being an ‘aunt’ in this new wild world meant being part of the ruling class, being part of an ‘elite’. It meant being an oppressor, <em>not </em>the oppressed. It meant <em>inflicting </em>cruelty<em>,</em> instead of being at the receiving end of it. A much better deal, by far. </p><p>“Tell me, how does Renee know you?”, Lydia then asked, sitting behind her desk, as if to demonstrate her position as owner of the office, as head of the aunts in the district. She raised an eyebrow with concern. “Were you close to her?”</p><p>“Not at all”, the younger aunt shook her head. “She just saw me a few times, over two years ago, back when the FBI was investigating threats against…”, Elizabeth trailed off and cleared her throat, not daring to even say Allison Taylor’s name. As far as the new regime was concerned, the former senator was the devil incarnated. “My former employer”. </p><p>“I see”, Lydia nodded, knowing who they were talking about. She stared into Elizabeth’s eyes, as if trying to read her mind. “It’s been reported that your former employer’s in Alaska. She and James Heller are forming some parallel government that’ll try to challenge The Committee”  </p><p>“An endeavour doomed to failure, no doubt”, Elizabeth declared, using her most categorical tone.</p><p>“No doubt”, the older woman echoed with a confident grin. “Nobody succeeds by going against God’s will”. She then lowered her voice, leaning much closer towards Elizabeth, as if to reveal a big secret. “You and I… we’re not that different, dear Elizabeth. We both have a… complicated past. We’re not exactly free of sin, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Is anyone?”, was Elizabeth’s cautious response. Everyone was just starting to learn how everything functioned under the new regime, now that the whole <em>‘interim-government-to-restore-the-nation’</em> charade had been dropped. But she had already figured that it was best to trust nobody… not even those who appeared to be friends. She still didn’t know what to think of Lydia Clements. </p><p>“But we are striving to do God’s work now”, Lydia’s small blue eyes suddenly teared up. She walked towards the window and looked up at the sky. “We’re saving the immortal souls of these fallen girls, by helping them redeem themselves… and, in the process, we ourselves will be redeemed” </p><p>“By His hand”, the younger aunt retorted in a heartbeat. ‘<em>If you can't beat them, join them’, </em>had become her motto the second they offered a nice bath, a decent meal and a brown gown, after eight full days of sitting a cold dark room, with filthy clothes, living just on bread and water.</p><p>Lydia looked at the clock on the wall, realizing there was no more time for chatting. “We have to get ready for new arrivals”. She stood up, after hiding the liquor back inside her desk compartment. ‘Aunts’ could get away with a lot, as long as they were discreet about it. “A trunk with sixteen new girls will be here in five minutes”    </p><p>“Sixteen more girls?” Elizabeth felt overwhelmed. For the past three days, trunks had been bringing fertile women for their program. The building could only hold so many prisoners. “We’re about to reach our full capacity”   </p><p>“That’s why a second Red Centre is being set up in Prospect Hill Academy, just five minutes from here”, Lydia reassured her, pumped with confidence, while they walked rapidly to welcome their newest prisoners. “And new Aunts are being trained as we speak”</p><p>Elizabeth exhaled with relief. “Praised be”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>15th October 2013</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Renee was brusquely snapped back into consciousness by an electronic whirring sound, followed by the sharpest pain in her right ear. She screamed at the top of her lungs and instinctively tried to touch her newest wound, but her hands couldn’t move. She could only feel the pain, and blood running from the ear down her neck.</p><p>It took her a minute to realize she was no longer on the mattress, tied to the radiator. She was now in a different room, lying on some table, on her belly, with her wrists and ankles strapped to it. She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there. Her mind was starting to fail her.</p><p>Through her tears, she could see a blurred Lydia, holding what resembled a huge ear-piecing gun.</p><p>“I’m sorry this was so painful”, Lydia falsely apologised, placing the device she had used on a nearby table. She then turned to look at Renee with a phoney smile. “But you are so very precious, we wouldn't want to lose you”</p><p>“What do you want from me?”, Renee groaned, too drained and pained to struggle.</p><p>Lydia grinned, now pleased, thinking this prisoner was ready to give up. “First you have to confess your sins and repent… or you won’t be forgiven” </p><p>Except Renee still had some resistance left in her. “I don’t want your forgiveness!”, she managed to cry out. “I want my daughter!”</p><p>She then felt the sharp blow of a whip against her bare feet.</p><p>“You were an adulterer, a worthless slut!”, Lydia shouted over Renee’s cries of pain, while Aunt Helena kept hitting the prisoner’s feet with a whip. “You’re unfit to be a mother! You stole another woman’s husband! And, before that, you let some <em>Russian criminal</em> get you pregnant! A Russian criminal! You’re such a disgusting whore! You think you deserve a precious child?”</p><p>“I’m Zoey’s mother”, Renee whispered as tears fell from her eyes. “You can’t take her from me!”</p><p>The blows from Helena’s whip got stronger, as Lydia’s yelling got louder: “Admit you are whore! A dirty slut!”</p><p>Barely holding on to her last ounce of strength and courage, Renee managed to quote her own favourite Bible passage: “<em>In the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you</em>”, to which she added, staring coldly at Lydia: “bitch”</p><p>It was obviously not what those ‘aunts’ wanted to hear.</p><p>Lydia walked out of the room, and then returned carrying a big tray with several medical instruments. Renee knew enough about torture to recognize what those tools could do.</p><p>“<em>If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out. It’s better to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell</em>”, Lydia paraphrased a passage from the bible, while grabbing a big pair of tweezers. She purposely waved the instrument so the prisoner could see it. “If that tongue of yours is causing you to sin… you leave me no choice”</p><p>It was then that Renee felt real dread. Her entire body began shaking, as Helena and Elizabeth quickly grabbed her, to force her lie on her back against the table.</p><p>“No, no, please…. You’re right! I confess! I’m a sinner. I stole another woman’s husband”</p><p>“Is that’s all?”, Lydia asked calmly. It was evident that Renee was just babbling whatever words were needed to avoid losing her tongue, feeling no real remorse. Yet, Lydia had studied the prisoner’s file, and could see a way to incense some deep-buried guilt.</p><p>“No”, Renee shook her head, after giving the big tweezers one more nervous look. She had spent the last four years trying to forget that Vladimir Laitanan, and his unborn baby, had ever existed. Tears fell from her eyes as they forced her to relive that trauma. “I let a Russian gangster get me pregnant. I’m a whore”.</p><p>“Now say you’re sorry”</p><p>“I’m sorry”, Renee broke down in sobs. “I’m so sorry, so sorry”</p><p>“Say I’m sorry<em>, Aunt Lydia</em>”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Aunt Lydia”</p><p>“Aw, much better”, Lydia turned her gaze to her peers, with a satisfied smile. “I think she’s ready to be a very good girl”</p><p>Now feeling broken, Renee gave no resistance when Helena and Elizabeth dragged her down a corridor. She could barely stand on her two feet, given the damage from the whips. So, she had to be held by her armpits and carried to a room with multiple showers separated by curtains.</p><p>Renee hardly noticed the other women in brown dresses, forcing several crying female prisoners, like herself, to get clean. It was like her surroundings didn’t exist. It was like nothing existed, except the pain in her body and the heaviness in her soul. She seemed to be nearly catatonic when two ‘aunts’ undressed her and held her under the warm water coming from the shower. </p><p>“Ugh”, Helena groaned, deeply disgusted, and shook her head with disapproval. She had just noticed the small red rose tattooed in the spot between Renee’s breasts. “Trashy whore!” She slapped the prisoner across the face. “And <em>you</em> thought you deserved a family?”    </p><p>Renee didn’t bother replying anything. She was barely listening anyway. Once clean, she changed into the clothes given to her: new modest, plain, undergarments and a white nightgown that could only be described as ‘Victorian’.</p><p>Since she still couldn’t walk, the ‘aunts’ dragged her to big a room that looked like a gymnasium with, at least, fifty cheap metal beds crammed together. Some of them were occupied by sobbing women. Lillie was in one of the beds, still shivering under a thin blanket. But Renee was then too deflated to pay attention to any other prisoner.</p><p>She was brusquely tossed over a bed that was by a window. She could see it was already dark outside… but she didn’t know which day it was, nor did she care.</p><p>She couldn’t lie on her back, due to the still-painful burns, so she rolled on her stomach, hugging her pillow. She touched her still-pained right ear, realizing they had put a metal ear cuff of some sort in it. She didn’t know what to make of it.</p><p>Then a woman with short purple hair and yellowish teeth was dragged into the room... She was kicking, screaming profanities as loudly as possible, demanding to see her son, and trying to fight off the guards. But she was immediately electrocuted with a cattle prod and dragged away.</p><p>Renee barely looked up to see the commotion, and then went back to hugging her own pillow, getting lost in memories of her family.</p><p>She saw her child vividly in her mind… Zoey giggling while playing with yellow rubber ducks in the bathtub, or giving her clumsy first steps while wearing the cutest blue dress with strawberries.</p><p>And she also thought about Larry…. But the memory of cuddling in bed and laughing loudly with her husband was now too painful. They had both worked so hard to build a good life, a perfect home…. with their baby. Now it was all gone, and there was nothing she could do.</p><p>Eventually, Renee heard the door opening again. The woman with purple hair and brown teeth was brought back, this time unconscious. Now the purple hair had been shaved off… and, what was more horrifying: a blood-soaked bandage around a lump had replaced that woman’s left hand.</p><p>Four new prisoners were dragged into the gymnasium as well… they were conscious and whole, but with downright terror in their eyes. They were already clean, wearing those Victorian nightgowns.</p><p>Aunt Elizabeth, who was monitoring the room, ordered them to pick any free bed. Not like there were many choices. One of the new arrivals, a pretty brunette with bright blue eyes, sheepishly sat on the bed next to Renee’s, looking lost.   </p><p>“Girls, it’s time to sleep now. Classes start tomorrow”, Elizabeth announced, turning off the lights.</p><p>That raised many questions in Renee’s mind. Classes for what? She thought about the Vietnamese re-education camps. There were re-education camps in China as well. Was that what this insanity was about? Would they be ‘brainwashed’ until they loved the new laws and new government? And, if so, why hadn’t Larry been taken to some camp too? Why was she being allowed to live, as long as she said what they wanted her to say? And, more importantly, would they give her Zoey back if she passed those ‘classes’? She didn’t believe so. She had been told she’d never see her daughter again. And she could tell they’d meant that. The only reward for doing as told was staying alive, and keeping all her body parts.  </p><p>Exhaustion eventually knocked Renee out. In her nightmares, she saw those soldiers again: shooting Larry, dragging his body, and pulling Zoey away from her. She could hear Zoey screaming: ‘mommy!’. </p><p>She woke up in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat, but invigorated by the urge to find her. She couldn’t just give up on her baby.</p><p>Desperately, Renee began examining and touching the window, with iron bars, and its frame, to check if there was a way out. But she was startled by a soft voice in the darkness:</p><p>“I know what you’re thinking. You can’t”</p><p>It was the brunette in the bed next to hers.</p><p>“Yes, I can”, Renee argued.</p><p>“You can break the glass, maybe, but what about the iron bars?”, the woman whispered. She had already examined her surroundings carefully, trying to find a safe way out, finding none.   </p><p>“The bars are screwed into stone…. I just need <em>something</em> to get the screws out”</p><p>“Good thing the power screwdriver I ordered from amazon is Out For Delivery”, the stranger said ironically. It was obvious that, in their dire circumstances, finding the right tools to unscrew anything would be next to impossible.</p><p>Renee was taken aback, feeling an odd mixture of annoyance and respect. Not often she met someone who shared her own tendency to use witty sarcastic remarks during the darkest times.  </p><p>“And what about all the soldiers outside, and the snipers on the roof?”, the brunette asked, feeling intrigued, and mor than willing to join any reasonable escape plan.  </p><p>“I don’t know…”, Renee admitted, with a frustrated sigh. “But I was an FBI agent. I can figure something out… I just need to think”. There was a very long silence. It suddenly felt very lonely. She was feeling the need for an ally. “You still there?”</p><p>“Yeah”, the other woman whispered.</p><p>“Maybe I can take out one of those aunts, steal her clothes, and walk through the front door”</p><p>“Okay”, the brunette liked that idea. She just didn’t know where they could go afterwards. “But, then, what? Run off to Canada somehow?”</p><p>“Not without my daughter. I’d have to find her first”, Renee said.</p><p>“Do you know where they have her? Do you have anyone that can help you find her at all? Or give you a safe place to hide?”</p><p>Another long silence, while Renee contemplated how powerless she was. Stealing brown clothes and identity passes wouldn’t get her too far. The passes would be reported stolen soon. She’d be stopped at a checkpoint. And she had no idea if they had even kept Zoey in DC.</p><p>Feeling defeated, Renee crawled back under the sheets.</p><p>“I’m so sorry”, the other woman whispered sadly. She didn’t mean to bring anyone down. But she was used to thinking logically, over-analysing every variable. “I know all you want right now is to see your kid. I’m a mom too. My son is in Canada with my wife. I want more than anything to run away and meet them there, but I’d get killed if I tried”</p><p>“Maybe I don’t care if they kill me”, Renee acknowledged, with her soft voice nearly breaking. She was seeing no reason to live. She suddenly had a new plan: suicide by soldier. She’d fight and cause so much trouble that they’d <em>have</em> to execute her. Or, she could get herself tortured again, then steal one of those cutters and use them to slice her own wrists open.</p><p>“Listen, you can’t give up. This madness will end someday. It <em>has</em> to. Somebody out there must be trying to help. And you’ll get your kid back. But you have to hold on and stay alive”</p><p>“You really think this will end soon?”</p><p>“I don’t know. But what if it does? What if you die today and everyone else gets rescued tomorrow?”</p><p>It was so similar to what Renee had said to her own mother a few years ago. After Abigail Walker was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer, Renee tried, in vain, to talk her out of suicide saying ‘<em>What if they find the cure tomorrow? Doctors all over the world are trying to find the cure right now</em>’. In the end, Abigail killed herself… and nobody ever found that magic cure anyway.  </p><p>“Doing nothing and waiting for some saviour is not who I am”, Renee whispered to her enigmatic new friend. </p><p>“Beats dying”, the woman pointed out.</p><p>As tears rolled down her cheeks, Renee gave in to the urge of holding her new friend’s hand. She felt a little bit less alone. Soon enough, they would both learn that new friendships in their current world were a very-very dangerous thing. They would learn that they couldn’t trust anyone. They would learn to NOT form attachments of any type. But right then, it made sense to form a sisterly bond.</p><p>“I’m Renee Walker-Moss, by the way”</p><p>“I’m Emily Malek”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next day they were woken up early. All the prisoners were given uniforms. But it wasn’t an orange jumpsuit, or a stripped pyjama. To everyone’s disbelief, the uniform was a full-skirted, full sleeved, ankle length red dress, with a white coif. Saying they were unflattering and ridiculous would have been a gross understatement. It resembled a lady pilgrims costume, only red. Yet, any comment on the hideousness of the outfits would be answered with electric shocks. </p><p>After putting on the dress, Renee brushed her hair and tied it together in an updo, to put the white coif on top, as instructed. In the process, her hands touched that strange metal ear-cuff. Then she noticed Emily had one in the right ear as well. She wondered if it had some sort of GPS tracker.</p><p>“Hey, let me look at that thing in your ear”, Renee whispered, making sure no ‘aunts’ were nearby. Emily nodded, also eager to find out what the metal thing was. When Renee examined it, she saw just a plain red metal ear-cuff, with the number <em>8976</em> carved in it. It didn’t seem to have GPS technology, but it was still disgusting.</p><p>“They’re just marking us, like we’re cattle”, Emily said after Renee described the ear-cuff. They were both looking nauseated and on the verge of tears. “Or concentration camp prisoners”</p><p>“What’s my number?”, Renee asked, desperately grasping for any information she could find. Even if it meant nothing, and was not too helpful.</p><p>Emily got closer, and tried to read the number in Renee’s ear-cuff. Yet, the numbers were too small for her bad eye-sight, and looked like a blur to her, even squinting her eyes. “Sorry, I can’t read it without my glasses”  </p><p>“I can help”, said another woman in a red dress. She had a white coif covering her chestnut-brown hair, tied together in an updo. But a brown curl had gotten loose in the back of her head.    </p><p>Emily and Renee exchanged a, somewhat, panicked look. They were reluctant to let another stranger into the inner-circle they were beginning to form. Could that stranger be trusted, just because she was wearing the same uniform? Could anyone? Did they have a choice?</p><p>“Okay”, Renee nodded, after a brief hesitation, letting that stranger see the ear-cuff.</p><p>“Yours says 2082”, the woman said, with a shrug. Nobody knew if the numbers had meaning, or just represented the order in which they had been arrested. Then she remembered Emily, and was somewhat relieved to, at least, see a familiar face. “Hey, they brought us from the Airport in the same van”. Her dark-brown eyes filled with tears. “I was trying to get on a plane to Mexico with my parents, but they wouldn’t let me because I was born here. Some soldiers asked weird questions about the times I was a surrogate mother, and brought me here. What do they want from us?”</p><p>Before anyone could answer, ‘aunt’ Elizabeth yelled: “Stop talking, girls! Move! It’s breakfast time!”</p><p>They were taken to what had formerly been the school cafeteria. Several ‘aunts’ served eggs, toast and bacon for everyone.</p><p>“Should I say I’m a vegetarian?”, the brown-haired stranger whispered, staring down at the food.</p><p>“We better just leave the bacon aside, and say nothing”, Emily suggested softly, being a vegetarian as well. It felt oddly nice to find things in common with her fellow prisoners.  </p><p>“Aunt Helena beat me up, and burnt my back because I wouldn’t eat a sandwich”, Renee whispered back at her new friends. “I’d eat all the food, if I were you”  </p><p>The other women nodded in agreement, with horrified expressions, and kept eating.</p><p>Then the brown-haired looked at the other women, feeling a bit awkward around strangers and not knowing what they could talk about. “So, what are your names? I’m Penny Delgado”</p><p>Her introduction prompted Renee, Emily and all the other women in red dresses to whisper their own names at the nearest prisoners.</p><p>But they were soon forced to stop, when Aunt Lydia brought in a gigantic TV screen into the cafeteria. “Blessed morning, girls.”, she said with a cheerful tone. “You’re all so lucky! You’ll get to watch the morning news today. We’ll hear a very important announcement from our leaders”</p><p>When she turned on the TV, the screen showed the only channel currently available in the nation. From some sterile studio, with nothing but the gold and white flag of The Sons of Jacob as background, a government employee announced with a flat tone: “<em>Blessed morning… we’ll now hear some important words from our esteemed leaders, starting with high-commander of the Faith and new Chairman of the Committee, the honourable George Winslow</em>”  </p><p>Then George Winslow appeared on the screen. He was standing behind a podium, in what seemed to be the White House’s press room… except that now it no longer had the sign saying ‘<em>The White House. Washington’</em>. There was no presidential seal. No American flag in sight. Only a room with a podium, a blue curtain, and the Sons of Jacob’s gold and white flag showing a sun burst and an eagle carrying an olive branch.  </p><p>Behind Winslow, twelve other white males were standing, wearing identical black suits and ties… those were the other members of the Committee, the governing body in charge of the nation.</p><p>As soon as she saw Winslow on TV, Renee’s fists began clenching and unclenching with anger. She was biting her own lips so hard to avoid screaming that she could taste her own blood. Her entire face was contorting with hatred.  </p><p>The horrid man began talking about the importance of living by the word of God and holding traditional values, as he had for the past seven months, but then he stunned the entire world by proclaiming:</p><p>“<em>The failed godless country formerly known as the USA will be hereafter called: The Divine Republic of Gilead</em>”  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After breakfast, they were led to a large room set up for the so-called ‘<em>classes</em>’. It had several chairs and tables, facing a blackboard and a projector screen, for the prisoners. Aunt Lydia was in charge of the first class, while four other ‘aunts’ stood silently in the back, not only to offer her backup in case of trouble, but to learn her technique.</p><p>Lydia seemed truly in her element, as she showed them horrid images of factories and nuclear plants, while lecturing: “They made such a mess of everything. They filled the air with chemicals and radiation and poison! That’s why God had to whip up a special plague: The plague of infertility”.</p><p>When she projected a slide showing, through drawings, the decline of the world’s population in the last two decades, nobody was surprised in the least. It was a well-known drama.  </p><p>“As birth-rates fell, those dirty feminists made things worse”, Lydia kept speaking, while walking around the room, making sure everyone was behaving properly. “Birth control pills, morning-after pills, abortions… Just to keep their careers and casual hook-ups…” She trailed off, feeling those words weren’t strong enough. She needed something more repulsive and demeaning. “to keep their <em>orgies</em>, their <em>Tinder</em>”, she finally scoffed with disgust, deciding such wording would be perfect for any future class. “All that made God even angrier, so, He sent… terrorism”. She dramatically used a handkerchief to wipe tears from her eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. “Now, all of you were sinners, fallen women… <em>but</em> you are very special girls, with a precious gift”  </p><p>Renee and Emily looked at each other with silent dread. They were starting to guess why the regime needed them alive so badly.</p><p>“Fertility is a gift directly from God. He left you intact for a Biblical purpose”, Lydia stated, choosing to ignore the annoyed eye-rolls and angry glares coming from some women in red. “You, girls, will serve the Commanders of the Faithful and their barren wives. You’ll bear children for them. Oh! You are so lucky!”</p><p>“What the heck?”, Penny whispered in disbelief.</p><p>Lydia directed an angry look towards Penny. But the older woman had been expecting resistance, and decided it was better to continue with her class, rather than interrupt it over minor disruptions. “Girls, the only way to be welcomed back into God’s grace is by following His word. Genesis 30 says: <em>when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, she said, 'Behold my maid, Bilhah. Go in unto her and she shall bear upon my knees so that I might also have children by her.' And she gave him Bilhah, their Handmaid, to wife, and Jacob went unto her</em>”</p><p>While Lydia spoke, there was dread and repulsion in the fertile women’s faces. Now it became obvious that they were expected to become Handmaids… have sex with a Commander and give up any resulting baby.  </p><p>“Fuck, no! No way!”, Penny suddenly snapped, jumping on her feet. “You’re crazy!”. She then looked around the classroom. Some girls were sheepishly staring down at their tables. Others were nodding subtly in agreement with her, but were too terrified to speak up. Even Renee kept making subtle <em>‘just sit down and shut up’</em> gestures towards her. “This is insane!”  </p><p>“Girls, you must be quiet during class, like little mice”, Lydia reminded everyone, in a falsely gentle tone, as she slowly approached the trouble-maker. Staring threateningly into Penny’s brown eyes. “I won’t ask again… sit down and be silent”</p><p>The serenity in Lydia’s demeanour, contrasting her words, terrified those prisoners who had already experienced torture by her hands. But Penny hadn’t experienced the worst of Lydia yet.  </p><p>“Fuck you, bitch”, Penny snarked, with both middle fingers held up towards the older woman.</p><p>“Blessed are the meek, dear”, was Lydia’s response, followed by an electric shock in Penny’s neck.</p><p>Penny fell down to the floor, screaming in pain. She was promptly dragged out of the classroom, by two of the other ‘aunts’, while yelling profanities.</p><p>With her eyes towards the door, Renee bit her lower lip, fighting the desire to scream the complete biblical quote: ‘<em>Blessed are the meek… for they shall inherit the earth’</em>. She kept her fists tightly clenched under her own table, repressing the urge to run and try to help Penny.</p><p>“Eyes front!”, Lydia barked, banging Renee’s table with the cattle prod. “Where do your hands belong?”</p><p>Reluctantly, Renee looked at the front of the room, with her hands over the table. Not seeing another way to stay alive and whole.</p><p>Lydia paced around the room, trying to find words that could keep every other prisoner calm. “Girls, I know this must feel very strange”, she said, trying to appear reassuring and sympathetic. On her way to the front of the class, she tenderly caressed Lillie’s cheek, like a loving aunt might do to a little child. “But <em>ordinary </em>is just what you're used to. This may not seem ordinary to you right now, but after a time, it will. All of this will become ordinary”.</p><p>Silent tears fell from Renee’s eyes, as she realized Lydia was probably right about that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At bedtime, Penny was dragged back into the gymnasium. She seemed barely conscious, sobbing softly, as two ‘aunts’ put her in a bed and then left. Both her middle fingers were gone, with a gauze covering the bloody stumps. And another bloody white gauze covered her right ear.</p><p>“What did they do to her?”, Emily whispered horrified, while lying in her own bed.</p><p>“We’re breeding stock… we don’t need fingers, or ears, for that”, Renee replied, with a bitter tone. In the darkness, she heard Emily breaking down in helpless sobs. So, she reached out her hand, to hold her new friend’s, like the night before.</p><p>In the middle of the night, to everyone’s shock, Penny left her bed and began prancing around the room, singing in her underwear:  </p><p>“<em>If God had a name what would it be? And would you call it to his face? If you were faced with Him in all His glory….</em>”</p><p>“Are you crazy? Stop that, you idiot!”, Lillie hissed angrily at her, sitting up in her own bed. “They’ll give us all extra prayers because of you!”  </p><p>“Lillie, don’t make things worse, go watch the door”, Renee ordered, realising that Penny was suffering some sort of mental breakdown. It was understandable, in their situation. She and Emily approached Penny and tried to, gently, bring her back to reality. “Penny, you’re having a dream… you need to wake up now”</p><p>But Penny wasn’t listening to anybody. It was like she wasn’t even in that same room. She was lost in a much nicer fantasy world, and kept singing using her bandaged hand as imaginary microphone.  </p><p>“<em>What would you ask if you had just one question?… And yeah, yeah, God is great… Yeah, yeah, God is good…”</em></p><p>“Hey, come on… wake up, Penny”, Emily begged, softly patting the other woman’s shoulder.</p><p>Renee used a firmer tone. “Penny, you have to get back into bed”</p><p>“<em>What if God was one of us? Just a slob, like one of us</em>. <em>Just a stranger on the bus. Tryin' to make his way home?</em>”</p><p>Then Renee grew more desperate and saw no choice but to slap Penny across the face. “Stop it!”</p><p>Penny gasped, in disbelief, with a hand over her sore cheek. “What the hell, bitch?”</p><p>“Sorry, but if you don’t stop Aunt Lydia will cut your tongue off”, Renee tried to reason, grabbing Penny’s arm.</p><p>“Nobody can stop me!”, Penny said with a blank-stare, still lost in her own fantasy word. She let out a hollow chuckle, as Renee pulled her towards a bed. “I don’t care who hates me… I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win this thing”   </p><p>Renee slapped her even harder than before. “You’re not here to win anything!”. She could tell that it was working, Penny was slowly returning to reality. “This is the Red Centre. You’re here because they want you to have a baby for a Commander…. And we all hate this, but if you don’t keep your shit together, they’ll fucking kill you… you want to die, Penny?”</p><p>Penny broke down in soft sobs. “I want my parents. I want to go home”</p><p>“I know”, Renee embraced her crying friend, holding back her own tears. She helped Penny put on the nightgown and get into bed, as if the 29-year-old woman was a helpless child.</p><p>“Guys, Aunt Helena is coming”, Lillie warned everyone, rushing back to her own bed.</p><p>When Helena opened the door, to check on the prisoners, she saw that all of them appeared to be asleep in their own beds. Satisfied, she left them alone again.</p><p>“I’m worried I’m gonna lose my mind too”, Emily admitted, with a soft whisper that only Renee could hear. It had horrified everyone to watch Penny go insane. She realized how easily their new world could break anyone. Emily was determined to be stronger, to hold on to life and the hope of seeing Oliver and Sylvia again. But what if she failed?    </p><p>“We can’t afford to lose our minds. We need to hold on and stay alive. You said so last night”, Renee reminded her friend. “You want to see your family again, right?”</p><p>“More than anything”, Emily replied, in a heartbeat.</p><p>“Then keep your head cold and do whatever it takes”. Renee’s heart broke with the realization that becoming a handmaid, and not causing any trouble, was the only thing that gave her a chance of being reunited with Zoey… someday, somehow. She <em>had</em> to stay alive, and in one piece, for her child.  </p><p>They’ve been told that whoever declined to be a handmaid would become an Unwoman instead. It meant being sent to clean up The Colonies. Previously known as the midwestern and southwestern of the United States, The Colonies were now a gigantic radioactive concentration camp. The so-called Unwomen would spend their days clearing toxic waste from the ground and would die of radiation poisoning in less than three years.    </p><p>That was the deal on the table: their lives for their wombs.</p><p>It was an offer none of them could refuse.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading. Please, let me know what you think! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>February 18th 1984: Jack Bauer turns 18, and shakes up his family forever with a stunning revelation. <br/>March 2014: Jack is rescued from China after 30 months of captivity and learns everything that has happened in the US since his arrest. When an exiled President James Heller asks for his help, Jack doesn't hesitate to embark in an undercover mission against America's most powerful and dangerous enemy yet.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this is when Jack Bauer jumps in! I hope you enjoy it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>February 18<sup>th</sup>, 1984</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Santa Monica, California</strong>
</p>
<p>The electronic gates protecting his father’s three-story mansion were wide open for him. Jack Bauer rode his motorcycle through the pathway towards the garage and parked it there. He took off his helmet, and looked around. After only five months of living at the university dorm, his father’s manor looked absurdly foreign to him. It baffled him now that <em>this</em> was where he was born.</p>
<p>He came to the world in the main bedroom, since his mother dreaded hospitals. A year later, he took his clumsy first steps in the roof terrace. As a toddler, he got in trouble for drawing on the porch’s fancy marble columns. As a little kid, he and his brother regularly built forts under their father’s pool-table, roller-skated down the halls, slid down the main staircase banisters, or climbed the tallest jacaranda in their garden. And their spirited mother always joined her sons in any childish game.           </p>
<p>This was also the house where, at the young age of eight, Jack found his mom dead inside her bathtub, with blood pouring from her open wrists.</p>
<p>No wonder he had grown to detest his father’s house, his father’s lifestyle.</p>
<p>He visited his family as little as possible, despite UCLA’s campus being just ten minutes away. But when his father invited him for the weekend, offering him a birthday party, Jack accepted only because he had important news to share. News that Phillip Bauer wouldn’t take well. So, Jack hoped agreeing to the party would ‘soften the blow’. He never intended to be overly-cruel with his own father, after all.</p>
<p>Yet, as he walked towards the front door and saw the huge banner saying in fancy letters <em>‘Happy 18th Birthday, Jack!’</em>, he began to regret agreeing to such pompous celebration.</p>
<p>Samuel Bergstein opened the front door as soon as Jack was in sight. Samuel had worked in the manor as the butler for twenty years, and was married to the head-housekeeper and cook. The Bergsteins had never been able to conceive a child, but treated both Bauer brothers as their own offspring.   </p>
<p>“Hi, Jack! Happy birthday!”, Samuel greeted the young boy with a paternal embrace.     </p>
<p>Jack returned the hug, very pleased to see him. “Thanks, Sam! How are you and Ruth doing?”.</p>
<p>“Very well. She’s finishing the cake for this evening”. Sam then lowered his voice, to avoid being heard by the strangers in black and white uniforms that were making preparations for the party. “Your father hired a nice party-planning company. But Ruthie insisted on handling the menu and the cake, because she knows what you like. She’s driving the caterers crazy”</p>
<p>“I bet”, Jack chuckled, amused. “And I’m glad to hear that”</p>
<p>From the grand foyer, Jack peeked inside the dining room and the reception area. The workers were setting everything up for the upcoming event. He cringed when he spotted golden tablecloths, yellow roses in crystal vases, fairy lights by the windows and orange balloons saying ‘<em>Jack’s 18th</em>’. It was evident that the party would not reflect Jack’s true personality or tastes… except for the food.</p>
<p>Jack was, for the millionth time, hit with the disheartening realization that his own father didn’t know him at all. His father didn’t <em>want</em> to know him. Phillip Bauer was only interested in himself, in moulding everything, everyone, to Phillip’s wishes. But Jack didn’t let that bring him down, for once. Because he had finally found a path, a purpose, of his own. It was only a matter of telling his family. </p>
<p>“Where are my dad and Graem?”, he asked, heading towards the main staircase.</p>
<p>“Your dad’s still held up at the office. Graem’s in the backyard, with his tennis instructor. He began taking lessons a few months ago”. </p>
<p>“Tennis, of course”, Jack let out a bitter chuckle. Phillip was always pushing his sons to learn tennis and golf, because it’d help build important business connections at the country club.  </p>
<p>Noticing that Jack seemed troubled, Sam put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Is something wrong, Jack? I… I heard about you and Miss Jarvis. If you need to talk…” </p>
<p>He wasn’t surprised that people already knew about his recent break-up, even though he hadn’t told anyone. His ex-girlfriend’s dad was in business with his father, and was in Graem’s same high school class. She was too connected to his family, which was a big part of the problem.</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Sam”, he reassured the older man quickly, with a resigned shrug. “But thanks”</p>
<p>“Okay”, Samuel nodded, already knowing that Jack was very reserved with everyone. He respected it, but it concerned him sometimes. “You know I’m here if you need anything”. </p>
<p>Jack smiled and nodded in appreciation.</p>
<p>On the way to his old bedroom, he stopped by the staircase, to look at the painting hanging above the landing. It was a portrait of his mother, Priscilla, sitting on a rocking chair, by the chimney, with both her sons. She held a new-born Graem with one arm, while a 15-month-old Jack sat on her knee, looking up at her with adoration, and reaching out his small hand to grab her long blonde curls.</p>
<p>He had looked at it millions of times. But it always moved him… how young Priscilla looked then… how much her pale green eyes resembled his own. It was impossible not to wonder how things would be like if she was still alive. But it was pointless. He couldn’t change the past. He needed to focus on what he could control: taking charge of his own life, being true to himself… like the adult he now was.  </p>
<p>When he left his backpack in his old bedroom, Jack noticed a black Armani suit and a hideous dark-orange tie neatly placed over the bed. He guessed it was what <em>Phillip</em> wanted him to wear for the party. Another reminder of why he had made the right choice. It’d break his father’s heart, but he had made the best decision of his young life.    </p>
<p>Having a few hours to kill before the party, he went back downstairs to find his brother. Sometimes, Jack remembered being best friends with Graem as little kids and felt nostalgic. He failed to understand why their relationship had deteriorated badly since those days.</p>
<p>He found Graem by the tennis court, with an attractive woman in her late-20’s. Jack figured she was the instructor and the lesson had just ended, since she was putting her racket back in the bag.</p>
<p>“You’re making good progress, Graem. See you next Saturday at the same time”. She politely shook Graem’s hand, trying to overlook that the entitled rich brat was staring at her chest.</p>
<p>“Can’t wait, Christy”, Graem smirked. He then stared at her posterior as she walked away. After the hot woman was out of sight, he noticed his older brother and hugged him. “Hey, Jack. Happy birthday, bro”  </p>
<p>Jack returned the hug, wishing their fraternal bond could be repaired. “Thank you, Gray”</p>
<p>The brothers sat on the chairs under the parasol, by the tennis court, as Graem said: “I wanted to call you when I heard about you and Marilyn, to say how sorry I am…” </p>
<p>“I’m glad <em>everyone</em> is so well-informed about my love life”, Jack grunted, sarcastically. He didn’t wish to discuss his break-up, especially not with his brother, who had an unrequited crush on Marilyn.</p>
<p>“Well, Marilyn Jarvis suddenly being single again was the biggest news in my school this week. Everyone talked about it”, Graem said, with a ‘<em>In which planet you live</em>?’ tone. He sensed Jack didn’t comprehend what a coveted trophy Marilyn was. “Some have money riding on who’ll take her to the prom”    </p>
<p>“Right”, Jack rolled his eyes. His old high-school could be lame. Most kids there were obsessed with popularity contests, looks, money, and other people’s dating lives. None of that had ever meant as much to him. He’d cared about school work, his closer friends, having fun surfing, racing his motorcycle; and he’d cared deeply about Marilyn. But he now saw they’d never belonged together.  </p>
<p>Their talk was interrupted by a middle-aged woman carrying a tray with a jar full of ice-tea. Jack hadn’t seen her before, but she wore the pale-blue uniform his dad gave all the house staff. In addition to Sam and Ruth, Phillip usually hired one or two maids, typically immigrants from some struggling nation.</p>
<p>“Here’s the ice-tea you wanted, Mister Graem”, the woman said, in heavy-accented but decent English.</p>
<p>“Finally, Lupe. That took forever”, Graem scoffed. He then spoke to her really slowly, using exaggerated gestures. “My brother is here. We need another glass for him… today… <em>hoy</em>… <em>no mañana</em>,<em> comprende</em>?”.</p>
<p>Lupe nodded, flustered, and walked away before Jack could apologize for his brother’s awful manners.</p>
<p>Jack stared at his younger brother in disbelief, starting to remember why they were estranged. “Did you have to be such a jerk?”. Graem rolled his eyes and filled his own glass with ice-tea. Jack shook his head, still struggling to accept that he couldn’t change his family. “So, new maid? What happened to Perla?”.    </p>
<p>“Who knows?”, Graem shrugged. “Boy, I miss that one. She was hot”. He drank some of his ice-tea, not interested in discussing their father’s maids any longer. There were other issues concerning his mind way more. “So, what happened with you and Marilyn?”</p>
<p>“It just didn’t work out”, Jack replied with casual tone. He was quick to deflect the chat to his brother’s love life. “What’s going on with you? Are you dating anyone?”</p>
<p>“Nobody worth committing”, Graem was trying to appear ‘cool’ before his big brother, but kept coming off as a jerk. “Marilyn’s fat cousin, Lindsay, showed lot of interest in me, but…” He shook his head, wrinkling his nose with disgust. Jack kept silent, so Graem drank more of his ice-tea, and directed the conversation back to what mattered most to him right then. “So, you and Marilyn… is that over for good? No chance of getting back together?”</p>
<p>“I doubt it”, was Jack’s blunt reply.</p>
<p>Graem was taken aback by how unaffected his brother seemed.</p>
<p>Then the maid returned with the extra-glass they needed. She left it over the table between the brothers, filled it with ice-tea and then re-filled Graem’s glass.</p>
<p>“Gracias, Lupe”, Jack mumbled at her. She smiled and left without saying a word.</p>
<p>There was brief, awkward, silence between the brothers, until Graem rushed back to discussing Jack’s romantic life. “So, your break-up blew everyone’s minds. You two seemed like the perfect golden couple”. He failed to hide his own bitterness when he said that. “What happened?”. Jack’s angry stare told Graem that there’d be no more details. Getting Jack to open up about personal matters could be a herculean task. “Okay, don’t tell me… I just hope this doesn’t ruin dad’s plans”</p>
<p>Jack felt beyond puzzled by such odd remark. “Why would <em>my </em>dating life affect dad in <em>any </em>way?”</p>
<p>“You don’t know?”, Graem asked, in genuine disbelief. “Bauer-Xanders Petroleum is planning a merger with Jarvis Energy. If the negotiations go well, they’ll become BXJ Technologies”</p>
<p>“So?”, Jack puffed, with exasperation. “That has nothing to do with my dating life”.</p>
<p>“Right”, Graem exhaled, feeling his older brother was being naive. If Jack had scorned Marilyn, her dad wouldn’t be above ruining <em>all</em> Bauers by cancelling the merger.</p>
<p>Then Sam approached the brothers with quick steps. “Jack, your father’s home. He wants to see you in the garage”</p>
<p>“In the garage?”, Jack stood up and followed Samuel, thinking it was a strange request.</p>
<p>Graem walked right behind them, not failing to notice that nobody had invited him.</p>
<p>They made through the back yard, through the manor, and walked into the garage at the front. They saw Phillip, with a massive grin on his face. He was standing next to a brand-new car, a red Audi Quattro, with the biggest blue ribbon.</p>
<p>“Happy birthday, Jack!”, Phillip rushed to hug his older son.</p>
<p>“Hey, dad”, Jack returned his dad’s embrace, feeling stunned by the new car. “Dad, what’s this?” </p>
<p>“Your new car, obviously”, Phillip replied, handing him a set of keys.</p>
<p>“Thank you, so much, but… but this is too… too generous”, Jack mumbled, trying not to be ungrateful. He didn’t want a car, right then. He <em>enjoyed </em>riding his motorcycle. It gave him a wonderful feeling, in the lovely California weather. Besides, taking an extravagant gift from his dad didn’t feel right anymore.  </p>
<p>“Nonsense”, Phillip waved a hand dismissively. “You deserve it, son”. He hugged Jack again. “Besides, you’ll need a new vehicle for work, you can’t ride <em>that thing</em> to the office”, he pointed at Jack’s motorcycle, parked in the corner of the garage. “You’re the CEO’s son… not some thug” </p>
<p>Jack inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the ‘<em>thug</em>’ remark. This was his chance to share the big news with his father. He was supposed to start working for him in the first week of March, but that would never happen. “Actually, dad… I need to talk to you, in private”</p>
<p>“Sure”, Phillip smiled, not noticing his son’s somber mood. They walked into the manor and headed to Phillip’s home-office, in the first floor. “By the way, I just spoke to Leo Jarvis. Marilyn told him you did nothing wrong, and it was a mutual decision. So, no harm done. He’ll go through with the merger, thank God”.</p>
<p>“That’s a weigh off my shoulders”, Jack grunted full of sarcasm, annoyed by having his love life discussed by his father, and his ex’s father. He walked into his father’s study, more determined than ever to take control of his own destiny. “Dad, about the job offer you gave me…”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes!”, Phillip exclaimed with unusual excitement, going behind his desk and getting some papers from a drawer. “This is a draft of the contract. We should revisit it together”. He handed his son the papers, with the biggest grin Jack had ever seen on his face. “You’ll work part-time for now, with a flexible schedule. I don’t want work to interfere with your education”.</p>
<p>“Dad…”, Jack put the papers on the desk. He felt a twitch of guilt when he saw a photo of Phillip, Graem, and himself playing golf at the country club, a couple of years back. Jack hated golf, but had enjoyed those rare moments of quality time with his father. Except those flashes of family affection always involved doing what his father wanted. That had always been the problem.   </p>
<p>Phillip looked for a pen and kept talking, before Jack could say anything else. “The final contract will be ready after the merger. But this one will do, for now”</p>
<p>“Dad, I’m not going to work for you”, Jack finally admitted out loud. He couldn’t help to fear his father’s reaction. He was a confident, strong-willed, 18-year-old… but, sometimes, in his father’s towering presence, he still felt like a little boy.</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?”, Phillip scoffed, thinking his was joking. Being 43 years old, Phillip was decades away from retirement. But his heir needed to start getting ready for such future. “You <em>have</em> to start working at my company now, so you can be prepared to be CEO when I retire. We made a plan!”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> made a plan, dad. Not me”, Jack corrected him. “It was never what I wanted”. For years, Phillip had fantasized about Jack’s future: a degree in accounting, an MBA from Stanford, a position in the family company, and a marriage to a gorgeous debutant with the right connections. None of those things interested Jack. “I’m my own person, with plans of my own”   </p>
<p>“Really?”, his father chuckled, with a mocking tone. He believed Jack wasn’t serious. He was just acting out, like a petulant teen. “And what plans are those?”</p>
<p>“I enlisted this morning, dad”, Jack straightened his back, gaining confidence as he spoke. Phillip looked like the epitome of confusion, as if Jack’s words were foreign. “in the military… I joined the army” </p>
<p>Phillip shook his head, still in deep denial. “The army? Don’t be ridiculous. You have to be kidding me”</p>
<p>“I’m not. I enlisted this morning. I had to wait till I was 18…”</p>
<p>“You can’t be serious!”, Phillip ‘s voice got louder. “You enlisted? Without even talking to me first?!”</p>
<p>“It’s my life, dad”, Jack tried to reason, keeping a calm steady tone. “I signed a contract for eight years. I’ll be in the reserves until I complete my education, and the rest of the time in active duty”.</p>
<p>Phillip stared back in horrified silent, leaning on the desk to remain steady, as reality reached him. He then grew desperate, pacing around the office and scratching his head. “It’s not happening. I won’t allow this. Call them, tell them you made a mistake… Tell them whatever you need to”. He took a deep breath and calmed down, realizing that everything was possible if you’re rich. “It’s fine… I… I can find a doctor willing to diagnose you with some condition”.  </p>
<p>“No!”, Jack snapped loudly, appalled by his own father. He hadn’t stood up to Phillip very often. He used to fear him, and crave his approval. But those days were gone. “Dad, you have to respect my choice. It’s what I want to do with my life”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?”, Phillip walked towards the drink cabinet behind the oak desk, finding himself in desperate need for a strong scotch. “You want to be just a civil servant? To put your life at risk…?” </p>
<p>“I want to devote my life to something bigger than me”, Jack blurted out, with tears of anger in his eyes, because his father didn’t understand. “I want to go my own way, do things for myself!” </p>
<p>Phillip could no longer restrain the rage inside him. He threw a bunch of folders and papers across his desk, and then walked towards Jack, with a hand risen and ready to strike him. </p>
<p>Jack grabbed his father’s arm, stopping the blow. “I’m not a child anymore”, he snapped, pushing a stunned Phillip towards a sofa. “And I’m not Graem”</p>
<p>He walked out of the studio as fast as possible, while tears blurred his pale-green eyes. All he wanted was for his own father to accept him, love him, as he truly was. Was that too much to ask? But Phillip was only capable of loving himself, or some smaller version of himself.</p>
<p>Then Jack was startled by a shocked Graem, who had stood behind the door, overhearing everything.    </p>
<p>“What the hell, Jack? You joined the army?!”</p>
<p>“Not now, Gray!”, Jack snapped, while going into his old bedroom, needing to calm down.</p>
<p>But his younger brother followed him, feeling too angry to let things go. “How can you do this to dad?! You’re so selfish and ungrateful! He just wants <em>you </em>to have everything, to have the best life!”</p>
<p>“And I want to live <em>my</em> best life… not his”, Jack tried to reason as they walked into his old bedroom. He hoped his words would serve as a lesson for Graem.</p>
<p>Jack then saw a picture of himself with Marilyn, sharing ice-cream at the beach, that was still over his bedside table. Following an impulse, he threw the photo, with the frame, inside the trash bin.   </p>
<p>It was then that Graem figured out why his brother and Marilyn had broken up. “Oh… so, <em>that’s </em>what happened… you told Marilyn about your plans and she didn’t want a life as an army wife, so she dumped your dumb ass.”. Jack stared at him with anger, but didn’t deny anything. Suddenly, Graem’s pale-brown eyes were blurred with tears of anger. “I really don’t get you, Jack. <em>Everything </em>was handed to you… you had the best girl, and you’re dad’s favourite, his golden boy… but you’re pissing all that away” </p>
<p>“Why are <em>you</em> so upset about this?”, Jack was genuinely confused by his brother’s whining. “I thought you’d be thrilled. This is what you wanted”</p>
<p>“What <em>I</em> wanted?”</p>
<p>“Yes! I’m giving you a great gift by stepping away. Now <em>you</em> can be dad’s <em>golden boy</em>”, Jack took the keys of the Audi Quattro, still in his pocket, and tossed them to his brother.</p>
<p>Graem caught the keys, looked at them, and then locked eyes with Jack, feeling even more hurt. “You think you’re doing me a favor?” Graem was stunned. The last thing he’d have chosen was a lifetime as ‘<em>the child Phillip was stuck with</em>’, a lifetime of knowing for sure that <em>everything</em> he had was his brother’s hand-me-downs. But now it seemed like that’s all he’d ever get. “Fuck you, Jack!”    </p>
<p>Jack’s eyes widened with shock, as Graem stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>March 9th, 2014</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Shanghai, China </strong>
</p>
<p>He’d never been so bored in his entire life. Staring at the walls of his cell, Jack tried to remember a time of equal tedium. He couldn’t. He had already memorised every inch of his cell. He was familiar with every crack in the grey cement walls and floor. Not surprising, since he’d been trapped in the same dark cage for… how long?</p>
<p>Two guards showed up with his dinner: a bowl of fried rice and some dry chicken, with a peach as dessert. Jack usually got two meals in a day, and a snack, sometimes… depending on the captors' mood. There had been long periods of time with no food at all, at the beginning. But then Cheng realised that starvation only made Jack more likely to die during the interrogations.</p>
<p>The guards silently watched him eat and then left Jack alone again, after retrieving the tray, plastic fork, plastic cup and plate from the cell. The prisoner wasn’t trusted with any object. Jack knew they weren’t worried about him killing someone to try to escape… on his own, without real weapons, he wouldn’t make it too far. He had observed how the prison was like, how many guards were around… escaping wasn’t a realistic option. And he had nobody to help him, or anywhere to hide, if he stepped out of the building. He wouldn’t make it out of Shanghai. But Cheng Zhi was awfully concerned about the <em>other </em>escape… the escape Jack could find by opening his own artery with any sharp edge… or by assaulting a guard, forcing the others to shoot-to-kill: the <em>ultimate</em> escape.  </p>
<p>
  <em>"You're far too valuable to kill, Mr. Bauer". </em>
</p>
<p>Jack would never forget those words. He knew they would neither kill him, nor let him die. Yet, Cheng’s precautions were unnecessary. If Jack wanted to die, he could cut his own wrists with his teeth. He had thought about it many times. Too many times. But it would be a waste. There was a huge difference between dying for a good cause, and dying for nothing. He had always known that.  </p>
<p>Once alone, he moved the thin dirty mattress, took a loose screw from the bed frame and used it to draw a line on the wall. He then counted the lines. He had been captive for 909 days. </p>
<p>From the moment of the abduction till recently, he had endured brutal daily interrogations. Cheng had asked about CTU agents, procedures, weapons, about the US defense department… but Jack never uttered a word. Not even profanities, or lies. He didn’t even bother reminding them that Chinese Consul Koo Yin was killed by friendly fire. Because he knew that detail never mattered to them. Jack had done many awful things in his life, but ended up being punished over a random guard's shitty aiming. The cruel irony of that wasn’t lost in him.</p>
<p>At some point, at the beginning of the current year, the questions changed, becoming weirder. Cheng showed him pictures of total strangers, trying to get information about them… and about Jack’s family.</p>
<p>“<em>Have you ever seen your father, or brother, with any of these men?</em>”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Do you know any member of The Sons of Jacob?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“When did you last see your father and brother?”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“When did you father join The Sons of Jacob?” </em>
</p>
<p>Jack had no idea why they were asking about that cult, or about his family. He just knew that ‘<em>The Sons of Jacob’</em> was a very extremist religious group, growing stronger. A very racist, xenophobic, homophobic and misogynist bunch. They called themselves '<em>Christians</em>' and interpreted the bible too literally, but focusing more on the old testament. They were concerned with the infertility pandemic and the loss of 'traditional values'. Last time Jack had heard from them, they were suspected of being behind threats to Planned Parenthood clinics and several politicians of liberal tendencies.</p>
<p>He knew nothing about that group, or his family, that the Chinese didn’t know already. There would’ve been no harm in telling them as much. Yet, he remained absolutely silent, just in case Cheng was asking seemingly innocuous questions as a trick.</p>
<p>But, after 847 lines on the wall, the interrogations had stopped all together.</p>
<p>Just like that. </p>
<p>He didn't know why, and was desperate to know. Something had changed, and curiosity was killing him. Perhaps <em>that</em> was the torture. Whatever was going on, he wouldn't break a 909-day silence just to ask why they’d stopped burning him with acid, drugging him, electrocuting him, or hitting him with a whip. </p>
<p>After counting the 909th line, he tried to get some sleep.</p>
<p>In the middle of the night, he was brusquely awakened and dragged out of the bed. A firm black hand covered his mouth, to keep him from making any noise.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Jack. It’s me”, Curtis Manning whispered. “We’ll get you out of here”</p>
<p>Two other men in US covert-operations gear were outside the cell, making sure nobody saw them. But Jack wasn’t as happy to be rescued, or as cooperative, as Curtis had expected.</p>
<p>Five months into Jack's captivity, Cheng had staged a fake rescue operation, using two American traitors, to trick Jack into revealing the identity of a spy. Jack didn’t think Curtis was capable of helping Cheng. But, was anyone to be trusted?   </p>
<p>“You’ll be okay”, Curtis assured him. “Please, trust me”</p>
<p>Jack didn’t say anything, but timidly allowed those men to lead him. He had nothing to lose at that point.</p>
<p>Curtis and the other two Americans had to shoot a few Chinese guards in the process, but were able to get Jack out of the prison. They all got inside a concealed car, which speeded away.</p>
<p>“How are you doing, Jack?”, Curtis asked, once everyone felt safer.  </p>
<p>Jack was still reluctant to speak. He barely nodded, looking distrustful, and somewhat skittish.</p>
<p>“It’s me, Curtis Manning. I was Director of Field Operations of CTU Los Angeles. Remember?”. Curtis spoke very slowly, fearing Jack’s brain had been damaged. Jack kept staring and blinking silently. “Your name is Jack Bauer. You worked for CTU. C..T..U… <em>Counter Terrorist Unit</em>”</p>
<p>Then Jack got fed up with the patronizing. He cleared his throat, trying to utter some words. Curtis noticed the struggle, and handed him a bottle of water, which Jack drank in less than a minute.</p>
<p>“Sadly, I still remember what CTU means, Curtis”. Jack then scoffed: “How’s your shoulder?”</p>
<p>Curtis had indeed been shot on the shoulder merely hours before Jack’s abduction. He smiled, pleased to see Jack Bauer’s mind appeared intact. “Healed now. It left a scar”</p>
<p>“Join the club”, Jack mumbled, looking down at his own scarred hands.</p>
<p>After an hour, they arrived to a deserted field where a small private plane was waiting for them. They boarded it, and took their seats.</p>
<p>“So much has changed in our country since your abduction, Jack”, Curtis stated sadly, handing him a big pile of folders. “But don’t worry. You’ll have a nine-hour flight to catch up”</p>
<p>Jack began reading the material inside the folders, and the plane took off. But what the files said was too horrifying to believe. It was impossible. </p>
<p>According the material, after Charles Logan’s arrest, Hal Gardner had become president, but lost the re-election in November 2012, to no other than Wayne Palmer. There had been a wave of minor terrorist attacks all over the country, starting before Palmer’s inauguration. And then, Abu Fayed managed to detonate five nuclear bombs on US soil, rendering the south and Midwest inhabitable. On February 18th of 2013, on Presidents’ Day, hundredths of men with machine guns occupied congress, the White House and the Supreme Court building, killing everyone in sight. Over 5000 people had died that day, including Wayne Palmer, vice President Noah Daniels, and every other person in the Presidential line of succession. Some private military executives, in collusion with the Sons of Jacob, took over the country. They turned the USA into a totalitarian theocracy called ‘Divine Republic of Gilead’. To Jack’s horror, his dad and Graem were a key part of the junta that controlled 48 states. An American government-in-exile, led by James Heller kept total control of Alaska and Hawaii, while a heavily armed American militia was trying, but failing, to defeat Gilead’s forces in some areas of the former USA.   </p>
<p>“Is this your idea of a joke?!”, Jack snapped at Curtis. His voice resonating all through the plane.       </p>
<p>“You don’t have to believe me”, Curtis snapped back, handing him a laptop. “Use Google to look everything up yourself. We have a few more hours till landing”</p>
<p>Jack snatched the laptop from his hands, and looked up information on the internet. He found several videos, from news outlets and websites from all over the world, showing the horrors of the nuclear strikes and ‘<em>The President’s Day Massacre’.</em> There was video footage of different celebrities, and world leaders, condemning Gilead. Most Hollywood stars had fled the US when liberals started getting murdered. All of them had spoken to the media in their new countries. </p>
<p>There was also a video of James Heller’s private inauguration ceremony, in Alaska. Heller took the oath of office of the president of the United States indoors, surrounded by a few witnesses. Jack’s paused the video as the camera focused on Audrey, holding the bible for her dad. She looked as beautiful as ever. Her hair was slightly darker, barely reaching her shoulders and perfectly straightened. She was wearing a white pantsuit, with a red, white and blue silk scarf. But she appeared sad, terrified. She had dreamt many times about her dad becoming president. But not in such awful circumstances. </p>
<p>Jack felt a lump on his throat and tears coming to his eyes. He placed a hand on the screen, wishing he could touch her. He then shut down the laptop, unable to take it anymore.</p>
<p>“Where are you taking me? What do you want from me?”</p>
<p>“We are going to Anchorage. President Heller wants to talk to you”, Curtis replied. </p>
<p>Jack looked through the tiny window of the plane. He was not ready to see James, and Audrey, in person. Especially not her. He didn’t know what to say to her, what to do.</p>
<p>It was as if Curtis could read minds. “Audrey won’t be there, Jack. She lives in England now”</p>
<p>Jack felt very much relieved. “So, she’s okay?” </p>
<p>“Yes”, Curtis assured him. “She tried her best to save you, you know? She’s the one who found out where you were being held”</p>
<p>“Where’s Kim?”, Jack asked softly. He was desperate to know but, at the same time, he was too terrified of the answer. What if something awful had happened to his daughter? </p>
<p>“She’s safe too”, Curtis assured him. “We got her out in time. She’s living in Hawaii, with her husband”.</p>
<p>“She married that old therapist?”, he groaned with disgust, remembering well that creepy man who had taken advantage of Kim’s obvious daddy-issues.</p>
<p>Curtis gave a quick look at a file with information about Jack’s family. Chloe O’Brian had prepared such file, anticipating that Jack would be overly anxious to know about Kim. “No. She married a young oncologist named Stephen Wesley, last month”</p>
<p>Jack sighed with relief and smiled for the first time in over two years. He then remembered another innocent person cursed with the Bauer last name, and got very worried about him. “What happened to my nephew, Graem’s son? Is he trapped in Gilead?”   </p>
<p>Curtis gave another glance at the files, and read the information available on Joshua Bauer. “No… he arrived in New Zealand last October, with a Jewish refugee… Samuel Bergstein”</p>
<p>“Good”, Jack nodded, approvingly. “But Josh is not 18 yet, they won’t send him back to his parents?”</p>
<p>“They wouldn’t. Gay minors get immediate asylum”, Curtis stated matter-of-factly, and was taken aback by Jack’s stunned expression. “Oh, you didn’t know he’s gay”</p>
<p>“I haven’t seen him in ten years”, Jack explained. It was a surprise, and it was even more shocking that Graem had helped create a republic that would hurt Josh. Jack took the file Curtis was holding. It had part of Josh’s statement to New Zealand’s authorities:</p>
<p>“My dad found out I’m gay a few days ago… he freaked out and kept screaming <em>‘What have I done? They’ll kill you!</em>’, then he put me and Sam on a plane”</p>
<p>Curtis looked at his watch. “Three more hours till landing, Jack”</p>
<p>“Sorry, I forgot my DVDs in my cell”, Jack replied with sarcasm.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Anchorage, Alaska</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was dark and freezing cold in Alaska. At the airport, Bill Buchanan and Chloe O’Brian waited for the plane to land, trying not to shiver. In spite of the gloves, they could barely feel their own fingers.  </p>
<p>“We could have set up the new capital in Honolulu, but nope...”, Chloe mumbled, wiping her own frozen nose with a tissue. </p>
<p>Bill ignored her whining. He was used to Chloe’s personality by then, and even liked her as a friend. He had bigger concerns in mind. “You think Jack will be okay? Psychologically?”</p>
<p>Her first instinct was an ironic remark: “Well, geez, he was imprisoned and tortured for over two years, while America was taken over by war criminals, with his father’s help. So, I guess he <em>might</em> feel a bit upset for a while”. But then she became deadly serious, staring into Bill’s eyes. “This is Jack Bauer we’re talking about. His mental state won’t stop him from doing what we need”.    </p>
<p>They finally saw Jack descending from the plane. He looked even worse than expected. His filthy prison appeared too big, since he had lost too much weight. His hair was long, dirty and messy, like his beard. He resembled the last survivor of an apocalyptic movie.</p>
<p>“Hey, Jack. I’m glad you’re here”, Chloe greeted awkwardly. What else could she say?</p>
<p>Jack nodded silently, not in the mood for pleasantries.</p>
<p>“It’s really good to see you again, Jack”, Bill said, trying to tread lightly, still uncertain about Jack’s mental state. “You know why you’re here?”, he asked, while they all entered the airport.</p>
<p>“After 909 days, Heller remembered I was being held by the Chinese, so I’m guessing he needs me to overthrow Gilead, am I right?” </p>
<p>“Yeah”, Bill admitted, with a mix of guilt and pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I can't even begin to imagine what you went through over there”.</p>
<p>The last thing Jack wanted to do was to talk about the last 30 months of his life. He just wanted to move forward. “I’d like to get cleaned up before anything else”</p>
<p>“Of course,”, Bill agreed promptly. “A room is ready for you”</p>
<p>They took him to a luxurious hotel by the airport, which Chloe called “<em>The White Hotel</em>”.</p>
<p>“The White Hotel?”, Jack asked, noticing that the walls looked brownish.</p>
<p>“It’s being used as a temporary White House. The President, Vice President and their families live here. So do other senior government officials”</p>
<p>Then she sneaked him into a large room, without being seen. “You can spend the night here. President Heller will see you in the morning. He feels you should rest before we get started. Considering…”</p>
<p>“Thank you”, he cut her off, before she could say anything about his time in China.</p>
<p>“You can’t call anyone. Nobody can know you’re here”</p>
<p>“I understand”, Jack assured her.  </p>
<p>“I thought you might like to see these”, Chloe timidly handed him an envelope.</p>
<p>Jack opened it, and his eyes got teary. There were recent photos of Kim in Hawaii, with her husband. They looked so happy and very much in love. In one photo, they were at the beach, holding multicolour surfing boards. It didn’t seem like Kim had aged at all. Seeing her that happy gave him great relief.</p>
<p>There was also a recent photo of Audrey, printed from an online article. She was holding a sign saying ‘<em>God Bless America</em>’, while leading a protest in The Hague against the Gilead regime.</p>
<p>Jack felt too overwhelmed with emotions and couldn’t look at it anymore. He was about to cry, but remembered that Chloe was still there.</p>
<p>“It’s okay”, she reassured him, looking close to tears too. She approached slowly for a hug.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Jack broke down sobbing while Chloe held him. He then felt mortified. Not only for crying, but because he hadn’t been able to shower in over two years.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I need you to go now”, he said.</p>
<p>“Okay. I’ll bring you a cheeseburger, I’m sure you haven’t had one since…”</p>
<p>“I’m not hungry”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to eat it, okay?”, Chloe said, and left quickly.</p>
<p>Once alone, Jack stepped into the shower. He let the hot water run all over his body, enjoying how it felt in his pained back and neck. He rubbed a soap, which smelled like eucalyptus, against his skin. Dry blood began to fade down the drain, along with all the dirt covering his body and hair.</p>
<p>There were razors, nail clippers and scissors left there for him. It seemed his friends had anticipated every need. Those ordinary items now felt so strange. The only sharp objects he had seen in the past two years had been used to torture him, and he had never been left alone with them.</p>
<p>Before shaving, he looked at his own reflection for the first time since the abduction. It scared him. He could hardly recognise himself.</p>
<p>He’d already seen the acid burns in his hands. But he now got a better look of the burns on his chest. Large pink and greyish marks from the electric shocks. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the medical paddles electrocuting him. He flinched, like he was feeling them right then.</p>
<p>He used a second mirror to check his back. It was covered with irregular bulky pink lines. Those were keloid scars, from the whips cutting his skin.</p>
<p>They had done the most horrible things to him, but he had remained silent the entire time. He could be proud of that. He hadn’t broken his silence. His years of training had been proven fruitful.       </p>
<p>He shaved and cut his own hair, until he looked more like himself.</p>
<p>After putting on the nightclothes Chloe had left for him, he picked up the prison uniform he had worn for the last 909 days. He then lit the room’s chimney and tossed the filthy clothes inside it. He had tears in his eyes as he watched the flames devouring them. They were tears of relief because it was over.  Now he could move forward to whatever came next.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>The next day…  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Making sure nobody saw him, Chloe escorted Jack to an especial ‘war-room’, set up to deal with anything related to Gilead. She typed a number on a keypad, to get the door open.</p>
<p>President James Heller was already inside, reading a document, with a coffee mug in his hand. As soon as he saw Jack, the guilt over letting him rot in China for so long twisted James’s stomach. The President left the mug over a table and rushed to hug the younger man.</p>
<p>“Jack, I’m so glad you’re here. I only wish it was in better circumstances”</p>
<p>Jack remained still, not returning the hug. “Me too, Mr. President” he mumbled, trying to conceal the anger he still felt because the man he had loved like a father hadn’t rescued him sooner, and had only rescued him at all to ask for a favour.  </p>
<p>He noticed Morris O’Brian and Bill were there too, along with a very tall woman, with short black but greying hair. She was dressed with a navy-blue skirt suit. Jack had seen her photo in the reading material Curtis had provided, and knew who she was.</p>
<p>“Jack, this is our vice president, Allison Taylor”, Bill introduced them, even though there was no need.  </p>
<p>“It’s an honor”, Jack was about to shake Allison’s hand, but hesitated because of the scarring in his own hands. He feared it’d be too disgusting for her.</p>
<p>She noticed Jack’s hesitation and, seeing the scars, could guess the reason. Without doubt, Allison took both his hands between hers, with a smile on her face. “It’s <em>my </em>honor to meet such a brave and loyal American. I’ve read all about you, Mr. Bauer. I’m glad you’re finally with us”  </p>
<p>He nodded awkwardly, saying nothing. He turned his attention to the map of the so-called ‘<em>Divine Republic of Gilead’</em>. Different areas were marked with different colors. Without wasting any time, Bill explained what such colors meant. </p>
<p>Yellow meant areas completely under Gilead’s control: the eastern, north-eastern, and mid-eastern parts of the former USA.</p>
<p>Officially, Heller’s government controlled only Hawaii and Alaska. But some territories marked with red were, unofficially, occupied by a militia loyal to the USA: part of the west coast, the gulf coast, most of Texas and Florida. And a large tract of territory along the Canadian border and northern Michigan, along with a few cities in Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine and the north of the state of New York.</p>
<p>Some areas too contaminated by radiation to be habitable were marked with the color orange: most of the midwestern and southwestern of the former USA. Thanks, mainly, to Abu Fayed’s nuclear bombs.</p>
<p>“Rumor has it, they call those areas <em>The Colonies</em>. They’re like Nazi concentration camps, but radioactive. Women no useful for reproduction are sent there and forced to work till they die of radiation poisoning”    </p>
<p>“But we can’t prove that yet”, James added. “Gilead’s leaders claim those areas get cleaned by volunteers wearing proper protective gear, treated like heroes” </p>
<p>“What can I do?”, Jack asked, unable to take his eyes out off the map. His heart was breaking. A country for which he had bled and sweat too many times… now turned into ashes.</p>
<p>Everyone then took a seat around the table. Using a projector, Bill showed Jack photos of a group of middle-aged white men. “Those are leaders of The Sons of Jacob. They formed the junta that overthrew our government and rules Gilead with an iron fist”. He then showed images of those same men with Phillip and Graem. “And I’m sure you recognise your father and your brother”.</p>
<p>Jack stared at the photo, still in disbelief about his own family’s role in the coup. The image was from an article written shortly after the DC massacre, about BXJ technologies producing energy resources for the ‘<em>transitional government</em>’. His dad and Graem were standing proudly, shaking hands the other men.</p>
<p>“I don’t get it, Bill”, Jack shook his head in denial. “They’re the least religious people I’ve ever met”</p>
<p>“I can’t speculate on their motivations”, Bill admitted. “But an informant tried to reach out to me, last September, claiming to have knowledge of a super-secret-cabal of private military contractors and oil executives. This cabal assisted the Sons of Jacob, and your father and brother are in it”</p>
<p>“Who’s that informant?”, Jack asked, narrowing his eyes with distrust.  </p>
<p>“She refused to give me her name when she contacted me”, Bill said. “She didn’t want to say much on the phone, obviously. She said a friend told her to trust me, but didn’t say who. She tried to meet me in person, to give a formal statement…”</p>
<p>“Tried?” Jack could see where the story was heading.</p>
<p>“I was already exiled here, and she was stuck in DC”, Bill explained. “She was supposed to meet someone working with us undercover. But he found her already dead. The day after her murder the regime purged all law-enforcement and intelligence agencies. They declared homosexuality and divorce illegal. All gay agents, and all divorcees with live-in girlfriends, or second-wives, were executed”</p>
<p>Jack guessed what everyone suspected. “You think that was because she talked to one of those agents?”</p>
<p>“The timing of that purge could be a just coincidence, or not… we don’t know”, was Bill’s resigned reply.</p>
<p>“I bet those bastards were planning to do it, regardless”, Allison added, expressing her deep anger for the first time. “The hatred against gay people was always part of their disgusting rhetoric. And outlawing second-marriages gave them <em>lot</em> of women to turn into Handmaids”</p>
<p>It was also a way to have better control of the surviving agents. Jack had seen too many marriages die in his line of work. He blamed it, no question in his mind, on the job. He guessed that, after murdering all the agents considered ‘adulterers’, there must have been very few left. The regime had also murdered the gay agents, the Muslims, anyone else refusing to comply… So, what was left? A small group of agents, too terrified to step out of line.</p>
<p><em>'Well played, little brother… well played'</em>, Jack thought, bitterly, feeling sick. He felt the urge to destroy everyone involved with Gilead. He just didn’t know how. “Again… what can I do about it?”</p>
<p>“We want you to infiltrate the regime, work for them. You can get very valuable information for us, and assist a secret resistance group called <em>Mayday</em>”, James said, somewhat coyly. He knew he was asking for way too much, considering everything Jack had already gone through.</p>
<p>“You can get very close to the leaders because of your, uh, personal connections”, Chloe mumbled, appearing awkward while handing Jack a folder labelled: ‘TOP SECRET. OPERATION: PRODIGAL SON’.   </p>
<p>Jack chuckled with irony. “So, how do I get there?” he wondered out loud. “I… I guess some Asian-American men could pose as rogue Chinese operatives returning me to my family for money”. There was a very long awkward silence in the room. Nobody dared to speak first, or look at him. He found it odd. “What? I’ve been estranged from my family since I joined the army… and I haven’t seen them since my wife’s funeral. But I’m still a Bauer. My dad might pay good money for me”.     </p>
<p>Another uncomfortable silence. Chloe stared down at the table, as if it was the most fascinating piece of furniture she’d ever seen. Bill drank some water, to avoid talking. Allison looked at Jack with pity.</p>
<p>“No, he wouldn't”, President Heller finally stated, with a sorrowful sigh. “Jack… there’s no easy way to say this. Graem was the one who sold you out to the Chinese, possibly with your father’s blessing”           </p>
<p>‘<em>Of course, it was them. How could I be so stupid</em>?’, Jack thought. Keeping him locked up in China was a brilliant move. Who knew what would have happened if he had been able to stop Fayed?</p>
<p>Jack managed to show no emotion whatsoever. “Okay. So, why would they make me one of them now? How do I make them believe I want to join them?”</p>
<p>“You’ll bring them an extremely valuable gift”, Bill said.</p>
<p>“Me. I’m the gift”, Allison added with her most confident tone, much to Jack’s surprise.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do it, Allison", James argued in an instant. "I’ll go with Jack. I’ll let him turn <em>me</em> in”</p>
<p>“No, it has to be me”, Allison insisted, with her firmest tone. “The Sons of Jacob spent years sending me death threats. I’ve been their enemy since before you even knew they existed”</p>
<p>A hint of accusation in her tone wasn't lost on James Heller, who had once called The Sons of Jacob: '<em>A sad little group of nutjobs with computers and too much free time'</em>.</p>
<p>“I know... I know...", the President admitted, with obvious regret. "But I can’t let you risk your life”</p>
<p>“If Jack brings me to them, he'd be their hero”, she reasoned, ignoring his objections. “They’ve wanted me dead for such a long time”. And they had almost accomplished their goal during the ‘President Day’s Massacre’. Like all senators, she was inside the Capitol Building during the attacks. She was shot on the chest, and would have died instantly, had the bullet not landed on a rib.</p>
<p>“But I’m the president!”, Heller argued with increasing anger.</p>
<p>“That’s why they need you here, Jim”, Allison retorted, not losing her calm demeanour. “You are the best-known, most trustworthy, admired leader left alive. Sadly, I’m dispensable. You’re not”</p>
<p>Bill, Morris and Chloe looked at each other. She rolled her eyes, feeling annoyed. Her husband rested his head between his hands. Bill sighed, shaking his head. They had heard exact the same quarrel dozens of times in the last few days. It always ended with Heller trying to play the President card, but giving in.</p>
<p>Jack had fixated on Allison during the whole conversation. He smiled a little bit, trying to hide it. He didn’t believe she considered herself ‘dispensable’. She was playing with Heller's ego. No person made it as far as James Heller without a big ego, without a little voice saying <em>only-you-can-fix-the-country</em>. Jack could tell that Allison herself had heard that voice. He liked that. The right combination of courage, brains and arrogance could push someone to try bold things for a good cause.</p>
<p>Considering the meeting over, Allison stood up. “Then, it’s set. <em>Operation Prodigal Son</em> starts at sundown”. She walked out of the room as fast as possible, before anyone could notice she felt terrified.</p>
<p>Once Jack was ready to leave the room as well, James pulled him aside to speak privately. “Jack, I know we are asking for too much. They might execute you in sight. And even if they don’t, we don’t know how much you can accomplish undercover”</p>
<p>“With all due respect, Mr. President…”, Jack interrupted, running out of patience. He knew what Heller would suggest. It made him sick. “Just say what you want to say already”</p>
<p>“America already owes you more than it could ever repay you”, James admitted. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. After China… nobody would judge you for going wherever you want, to live in peace. You earned it”</p>
<p>Jack felt intensely offended by the offer. He made an effort not to raise his voice, only out of respect for Heller’s position. “Sir, the country I love, the country I bled for, and gave everything for, was destroyed. Thousands have died in nuclear strikes and in the DC massacre… countless more since then. Women are being kept as sex slaves. And my father and brother helped make that happen”, Then Jack could no longer avoid yelling. “You think I’d just save my own ass, and run away from this, when I can try to help? How dare you? Do you really think the Chinese left me that damaged?” He then lowered his voice again, and shook his head sadly. “I looked at you like a father. But you don’t even know me”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry”, James apologised with hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I.. I just feel guilty for not getting you out of China sooner. I felt obligated to offer you a way out of this. I never thought you’d take it. I know you better than anyone. I know that’s not who you are”</p>
<p>“Sometimes I wish it was”, Jack admitted softly, heading towards the door. He noticed the flag of the USA displayed in the room… Except this one had only two stars filled in with white, while the other forty-eight were only outlines. It represented the current dire situation. He then turned around to give James one last look. “Mr. President, I can’t promise that flag will have fifty stars again. But I promise you won’t see me alive again unless it does”.</p>
<p>Heller nodded soberly. He had known that all along. “What do you want me to tell Audrey?”</p>
<p>“Tell her what you’ll tell the world”, Jack replied, with the plainest tone he could fake. “That I snapped after thirty months of torture and isolation, so I kidnapped Allison Taylor, to join my family in Gilead”  </p>
<p>“We can tell Audrey the truth, son. She'd never tell anyone”</p>
<p>“I know that. But I don’t want her to know the truth”. Then he got a little closer to Heller, and used the most serious ‘<em>don’t-mess-with me’</em> tone anyone could ever use with the president: “Sir, you really DO owe me. I hope you respect my wishes and DO NOT tell Audrey the truth”  </p>
<p>“She’ll hate you forever”, James pointed out, in a heartbeat.</p>
<p>Jack’s eyes got teary, but his voice remained firm. “Let that be my gift to her”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>After sundown… </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The kidnapping of Allison Taylor had been staged without incidents. Jack had to shoot at her bodyguards in their legs and shoulders, to make it look real, but made sure to cause minimum damage. Allison played the part of frightened hostage as well as expected.</p>
<p>Soon enough, he was driving her through Canada towards Gilead in a car with tinted windows. They wouldn’t reach any dangerous spot in many hours. Jack took a glance at Allison, who was staring at the screen of a secure phone Bill had provided. For the first time, real dread was showing in her eyes. Jack noticed she was looking at pictures of her family.</p>
<p>Earlier that day, Allison had spent a long time secretly observing her kids. Livy was studying hard for a test, as Roger explained the material, while providing coffee and snacks. <em>'Blessed be the pop-corn!</em>', Livy joked, while her older brother handed a bowl with her favourite snack. </p>
<p>Both Taylor kids were as smart as their parents and had never gotten in trouble. There’d been the occasional breaking of the curfew and secretly partying on school night, in the old times. But Allison and Henry couldn’t have asked for more mature responsible teens. There had been talks about sending ‘the kids’ to Europe, where it was safer. But Roger and Livy refused to leave their parents.</p>
<p>Allison once heard that King George VI was known to say about his daughters: ‘<em>Elizabeth is my pride, Margaret my joy</em>’. Only a parent of two very unalike children, and a unique bond with each of them, could fully understand those words.  </p>
<p>Roger had always been Allison’s joy. He brought a light shining for everyone around him the second he was born. From the first time he ever opened his eyes, he held his mother captivated in his tiny palm. In return, she had always been her son's hero. Moving to Europe had never been acceptable to him. He couldn’t abandon his mom in such difficult times. It was about loyalty to America, but it was also about trying to protect the woman who had given him life and raised him for 23 years.</p>
<p>Olivia Maureen Taylor, at the age of 19, looked like her mom every passing day. Nobody ever looked at old photos of Allison’s teen years without marvelling at the resemblance. Livy was now a junior at the University of Anchorage and volunteered with the ‘Save the Women’ organization. Equal to her mother in brains and ambition. Yet, she had always been daddy’s little girl. Father and daughter sometimes seemed to share a universe in which Allison felt like an intruder.  </p>
<p>Even so… while looking at Roger that afternoon had almost made Allison cancel the mission, watching Livy studying had ultimately fed her resolve. She was doing everything for her daughter. Girls like Livy needed their country back.</p>
<p>Not that Allison wasn't terrified, as well as determined. “I guess I should expect a quick execution, at best”, she said to Jack, trying not to show she was nervous.</p>
<p>“I'll try to convince them that you’re far too valuable to kill”, he reassured her. </p>
<p>“James can’t negotiate with those war criminals!”, she objected, appalled by the notion.</p>
<p>“They can still try. And you have too much information they need”, Jack said bluntly.</p>
<p>She leaned against the back of her seat, horrified, contemplating the gravity of Jack’s words. It hadn’t occurred to her before. “So, my best hope is that they’re too interested in torturing me to kill me”  </p>
<p>Jack had nothing comforting to say. Allison Taylor had a very dire future before her… if she had any future at all. He knew it too well.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you let Heller take your place?”, he asked as gently as possible. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but Jack interrupted her. “You can say it’s because The Sons of Jacob hate you more, or because Heller’s more valuable as president. But we both might die soon, so I’d prefer the truth”</p>
<p>“Fair enough”, she agreed, with the tiniest smirk. “I didn’t want to be the one safely ruling the two states we have left, begging for international help…” She scoffed loudly. Since forming a government-in-exile with James, her life had been a constant fruitless diplomatic battle to get real military support from other countries. She had gotten statements <em>'Strongly condemning’ </em>the Gilead regime, along with economic sanctions and promises to welcome refugees… nothing more.  </p>
<p>"I need to do something, Jack... for my daughter, and any daughter she might have in the future. And for the victims of those bastards. The UN is letting those lunatics get away with everything". She grew more agitated. Her eyes moistened. "It’s been a year and twenty-one days since they killed <em>him</em> and nobody has done a damn thing…” She stopped herself when she realised, she had said ‘him’ instead of ‘them’.</p>
<p>“Him?” Jack raised his eyebrows, very much intrigued. It had been a year and twenty-one days since the President Day’s Massacre. Over 5000 people died that day. But one of them was special to Allison.</p>
<p>“My best friend, Ethan Kanin”. She failed to say that name without her voice trembling. She began feeling the now familiar tightening of her throat. “He was the Secretary of Defense” She wiped the tears that were inevitably flooding her eyes with the back of her hands. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry”, Jack said, as if it had been his fault somehow. He was starting to blame himself for all the grief his own family had caused. It felt like his blood was tainted.</p>
<p>“He was a republican, but Palmer begged him to join the cabinet anyway. With all those terrorist attacks going on, he wanted the best and brightest, no matter the ideology. And Ethan, being Ethan, agreed”.</p>
<p>She could still hear him say:  <em>Allison, in times like these there are no republicans or democrats, we are Americans before anything else</em>.</p>
<p>“He never wanted to be President?”, Jack asked. He could tell Allison was eager to talk about her friend. And it felt oddly nice for him to have a conversation, after spending thirty months silent.</p>
<p>“Oh, no. He would have been perfect. But he never wanted it enough”, she explained. Ethan and her had talked a lot, though, about her own plans to become the first female President of the US. She recalled being a little kid, looking at a history book with the photos of all the US Presidents, and naively asking her dad: ‘<em>Where are the girl presidents</em>?’. A dream was born that day. And Ethan had always been more than happy to help her make it happen.</p>
<p>“Some people want to be the President, others get a thrill out of being that one person the President can’t live without”, she mused out loud. She had already noticed Jack was part of those ‘others’.</p>
<p>Then she looked back at the stars. She couldn’t help thinking about her past, the road not taken, now that her life might be close to the end.</p>
<p>She thought of her first days as a freshman at Georgetown University, when she was still known as Ally Hunter. She heard people talking about one Ethan Kanin, the youngest, hottest and most popular professor. Every girl had a crush on him. Intrigued by all the hype, Ally enrolled in one of his classes: International Relations Theories. She was hooked from the start. He was handsome, and the most intelligent person she had ever met. His mind was as captivating as his blue eyes.</p>
<p>Sadly, for her, he would have never dated a student in his class, specially <em>not</em> one that was slightly under 18, like herself. So, she patiently, and painfully, waited for him. She settled for being just his favourite student, and his friend. She stopped going by ‘Ally’ (Only Henry would dare break that rule, many years later) and shortened her hair. After she passed his class and turned 18, all the innocence in their friendship was gone. They began the most intense relationship of their lives. However, her graduation did them apart. She had an amazing opportunity to continue her education in Israel. He was unable to follow her, because he was the only one looking after his sick and mentally-unstable father.</p>
<p>When Allison closed her eyes, she could still see her younger self, clinging on to him with desperation when they shared the bed for the very last time.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ll miss you more than anything”, she confessed that last night. “When I think I won’t see you again, it makes me not want to go. I want to stay with you”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’d resent me forever, deep down”, Ethan reasoned, being older and much wiser. “Giving up your dreams because of some man is not you, Allison”. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You are not just a man”, she argued stubbornly. “My dad says I’m young, there’ll be other boyfriends. And maybe there’ll be, but you are the best friend I've ever had in my life. I can trust you completely and talk to you about anything. I just know I’ll never find that again”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I feel exactly the same way”, Ethan admitted sadly. “I can’t imagine not having you in my life anymore”  </em>
</p>
<p>Deciding to stay friends had been the smartest decision of their lives.</p>
<p>Jack listened to the story attentively. His curiosity growing. “And then what happened?”</p>
<p>“Exactly what everyone predicted”, she replied with a sad shrug. “I did my masters in Israel, which led to a Phd from Oxford. By the time we were both living in DC, we were married to other people”</p>
<p>When Ethan’s wife passed away due cancer, Henry became annoyingly jealous. ‘<em>Of course, I trust you, Ally! It’s him I don’t trust’</em>, he had argued. ‘<em>You’re insane! His wife just died!</em>’, she had argued back. Eventually, she had to change that argument for: ‘<em>She's been dead for years, and he still wears the wedding ring</em>!’, to which Henry replied either ‘<em>Overcompensating much</em>?’ or ‘<em>Guilty much</em>?’, making Allison walk away exasperated, believing her husband was being an immature jerk. But, sometimes, she had secretly wondered if Henry wasn’t too perceptive for his own good.    </p>
<p>As Jack drove, she fixated on the stars, as if Ethan could magically show up to give an answer. The way he had truly felt about her in his heart was now a secret buried with him.</p>
<p>“What about you, Jack?”, she finally asked. “Did you ever have a lover that was also your best friend, someone you could talk to about everything and trust with your life?”</p>
<p>Jack remained silent for too long, as he pondered about the question. “I loved two women in my life with all my heart and soul”, he then confessed sadly. “But let’s just say… the talking about everything and trusting wasn’t there”</p>
<p>“Let’s say more”, Allison almost ordered hastily, with her blue eyes wide open, beyond intrigued. “We both might die soon. It’s no time to be coy”</p>
<p>“All right”, Jack agreed, with a nervous chuckle. He rarely, if ever, discussed his personal feelings with anyone. But he figured this was the perfect time for an exception, since their lives could end soon. “With my wife, Teri, I hid everything, everything, about my job. Many things I <em>had </em>to hide”, he explained, and Allison nodded, knowing better than to ask why. “But other things I chose to hide because I thought she’d stop loving me if she knew about those things”.</p>
<p>Again, Allison nodded kindly, smart enough to know what he meant. She could imagine what men like Jack did, which made him wonder if Teri had, somehow, guessed some of his secrets all along too.</p>
<p>“A few years after she passed, I fell in madly love again”</p>
<p>“Audrey Raines, right? James’s daughter?”, Allison had heard about it through James himself.</p>
<p>“Yeah”, Jack confirmed with a soft whisper. “But I once made her think I was dead. And now I’m making her think I’m kidnapping you, to join a group of war criminals”      </p>
<p>“I see”, Allison said, lifting her eyebrows in a way that seemed to say ‘<em>ouch</em>’. “Not exactly the very model of a healthy relationship”   </p>
<p>‘<em>And you don’t know half of it’</em>, Jack thought to himself. He had put both, Teri and Audrey, through a lot of hell. It made him wish The Sons of Jacob had some sort of priesthood vows he could take. But priests got executed in Gilead.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By dawn, they reached a point near the Canadian/Gilead boarder where they had to leave the safety of the vehicle. Jack parked it behind some bushes in the middle of the woods. It would be found, but that didn’t matter. When they got down, he destroyed the cell phones Bill had provided.</p>
<p>Allison dumped her coat, shoes and one of her earrings on the woods, she got some dirt on her white shirt and navy-blue skirt and messed up her hair. She then looked at the silver bracelet she was wearing: her most precious material possession.</p>
<p>Her father had given it to her when she won her first senatorial race. He had retired from the senate a few years earlier, due his declining health, and was more than proud to see Allison win his former seat. But the bracelet had also marked the end of their only huge fight. She had begun using Henry's last name a year before, to make herself more palatable to conservative voters. It had broken her dad's heart. He understood that a married female politician still using her maiden name would be too controversial. But Allison was his only child, and he was retired and slowly dying, so the country would never have a President Hunter. Yet, when it was announced on TV that Allison Taylor would be the next US senator for the great state of Tennessee, Roderick Hunter showed up to the victory party and gave her a silver bracelet, a symbol of her first significant political victory, and his pride.</p>
<p>She wore it whenever she needed extra-confidence, like the day James Heller announced she'd be part of his government-in-exile, calling her a <em>'brilliant American patriot</em>' and <em>'Tennessee’s favourite daughter'</em>.    </p>
<p>She foolishly forgot to take it off and leave it safe, before letting Jack 'kidnap' her. Not that she was expecting to ever go back home and recover it, but she wanted Livy to have it.</p>
<p>Jack noticed Allison staring silently at a silver bracelet, and guessed what was happening. He had too much experience with leaving people and precious objects behind. "Leave it by that bush, next to the car", he said to Allison, as gently as he could. "The Canadians will find it when they search the area, assume you lost it in the struggle with me, and return it to your family".</p>
<p>She agreed and left the bracelet by a bush, hoping for the best. She’d have to let The Sons of Jacob steal her wedding ring, though. Because It'd be overly suspicious if both her favourite pieces of jewel conveniently '<em>fell</em>' on safe Canadian soil during her supposed struggle with Jack Bauer.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jack broke a branch from a tree and hit his own face with it, leaving a small fresh wound, much to Allison's shock. "Why on Earth did you do that, Jack?!"</p>
<p>"To make it look more real", Jack explained. "I’ve only known you since yesterday, but I know <em>nobody </em>would buy that you didn't try to fight me"</p>
<p>He handcuffed her, covered her mouth with a gag, and they continued walking through the forest.</p>
<p>As soon as they crossed the border, a several Gilead guards appeared, pointing their weapons at them.</p>
<p>“Don’t shoot! I’m Jack Bauer, Commander Phillip Bauer’s son!”</p>
<p>“How do we know that?”, a young guard asked.</p>
<p>“Sorry, son. I don’t have my passport”, Jack said, sarcastically. “I was kidnapping Heller’s pathetic vice president for my father”</p>
<p>The guards weren’t sure of what to do, not being prepared for such situation They shoved Jack and Allison into the back of a van, tied them there, and took them to a small facility, used to hold prisoners.</p>
<p>“Take off your clothes!”, a guard snarked, while shoving Jack and Allison into a cell. He was supposed to check they didn’t have any hidden listening devises.</p>
<p>“The Lord says you have to marry me first, young man”, Allison mocked him.</p>
<p>The guard hit her, and others joined him and stripped her of her garments. She was then given what appeared to be a grey prison uniform.</p>
<p>After reporting everything and getting instructions from his superiors, a guard tossed a cellphone at Jack: “Your father wants to talk to you”</p>
<p>Jack snatched the cellphone from the guy’s hands and looked at the screen. A video call had been set for him to talk to his father. “Dad? Can you see me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, my God”, Phillip gasped, in total disbelief. “They weren’t lying. It <em>is</em> you”. He appeared distrustful. “I don’t get it, son. They’re saying that, after you escaped from China, you went to Alaska and kidnapped Allison Taylor for us”</p>
<p>“That’s exactly what happened, dad”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t sound like you at all”, Phillip understated. “What’s really happening?”</p>
<p>“I realized I made a terrible mistake when I was very young and naive”, Jack answered, trying to give his most convincing act ever. “I never should have abandoned our family. I’m so sorry. I spent my life working for the government, for men like Palmer and Heller… but what did I get in return? I gave them everything, and the <em>one </em>time I needed something, I was left to rot in a cell. I’ve never been more than an acceptable loss to them… So, please, dad… let me make things right with <em>you</em>. I want another chance”</p>
<p>Finally, Phillip was hearing the words he had desperately wanted to hear for three decades. It was too good to be true. Deep down, he knew it couldn’t be real. Yet, after a very long silence, he sighed: “Okay, I’ll tell them to bring you to me”</p>
<p>In a matter of minutes, Jack was taken to the back of a van again. This time, the guards gave him food and water, and treated him nicely, since now they knew for sure that Jack was Commander Phillip Bauer’s son. They even told him that they were driving him to New York City… since Phillip lived there now and was part of the local council that controlled Gilead’s Eastern District, which included New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the following afternoon when they arrived to a wealthy suburban area, outside Manhattan. A lot of big houses lined up. He was taken to one of them.</p>
<p>The guards knocked on the door, and a middle-aged black woman in brown clothes opened.</p>
<p>“Blessed day”, she greeted everyone politely. “All the commanders are waiting in the main living room”</p>
<p>They stepped into the main living room, where thirteen men in black suits gathered together, to see Jack’s arrival for themselves. Jack guessed all of them were members of the Eastern District Council.</p>
<p>Phillip rushed to hug his eldest son, with excitement and big disbelief. “Jack, praised be!”</p>
<p>“Dad, so good to see you”, Jack muttered, struggling to return the embrace.</p>
<p>Graem attempted to act delighted to see his brother, and went to hug Jack as well. “Dear brother! The Lord has blessed you with more lives than a cat! Praised be His name!”</p>
<p>Some of the other black-suited men echoed such sentiment, by saying “Praised be”.</p>
<p>Jack cringed, hardly managing to cover his disdain, when Graem embraced him. </p>
<p>The guards discretely left. Then Phillip introduced Jack to all the other men, referring to them as “My fellow Commanders of The Faith”.</p>
<p>One of them was Jonas Hodges, who seemed quite a character. Hodges was married, with a grown daughter. Interestingly enough, he had two ex-wives who had died in <em>‘accidents’</em> shortly before the takeover. Their deaths had been awfully convenient for Jonas… too convenient. Without a living ex-wife, his third marriage wasn’t considered ‘adultery’. And, since he was giving The Sons of Jacob an army, they agreed to forgive his past transgressions. He just had to repent, and pledge to do better.</p>
<p>But the ‘Commander’ in the room that puzzled Jack the most was Alan Wilson… once a highly secretive American private military tycoon. Wilson had once run an empire from the dark, unknown, unseen. Just a very powerful ghost, or shadow. Making Gilead a reality had cost him that precious anonymity.  </p>
<p>Last, Jack noticed the one woman in the room… a very pretty young girl dressed in teal-green. She was looking down, beyond timid, as long blonde locks of hair covered her cheeks.</p>
<p>“This is my wife, Elsie. We got married in December”, Phillip announced proudly, having to almost push his timid wife forward. At the moment of the takeover, he’d been a widower for decades, content with just having multiple girlfriends. Never settling down with just one. But the Sons of Jacob wouldn’t openly allow that lifestyle. They knew he was able to father children, so they arranged a marriage for him, to a gorgeous girl around 20. ‘<em>A very young widow, whose husband just died fighting for our side’</em>, George Winslow had said. ‘<em>She still has many fruitful years before her, deserves to have a miracle</em>’.</p>
<p>“Your wife?”, Jack was dumbfounded. Elsie seemed even younger than Kim. She had probably been married off to Phillip, without her having much of a say.</p>
<p>“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jack”, she said, bowing her head slightly. “I thank the Lord for returning you to father safely”</p>
<p>“So do I”, Jack managed to say, remembering to play along.   </p>
<p>“Congratulations are in order, brothers”, Phillip then proclaimed. “Elsie is eight weeks pregnant”</p>
<p>Graem laughed in disbelief and hugged Phillip, patting him on the back. “Well done! Congratulations!” He then turned around and playfully hit Jack on a shoulder. “What a stud, our old man! Am I right?”</p>
<p>Phillip seemed a bit flustered and looked at the other commanders. “Brothers, excuse Graem… his mouth is sometimes a bit blasphemous, but God is in his heart”</p>
<p>“I’m truly sorry, my brothers”, Graem apologised, remembering that not every Commander in the room could be trusted. “The miracle of life makes me… overly enthusiastic”</p>
<p>Jack felt beyond sick, but managed to mutter what was expected from him. “Praised be! Congratulations on your blessed miracle”</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Phillip. No Handmaid for you”, Alan Wilson muttered, chuckling awkwardly, acting (poorly) like he wasn’t insanely jealous. He had tried to get his own wife pregnant for twenty years, to no avail. Now, as any man in his position, he had been assigned a handmaid four months before, as soon the first group of Handmaids began their duties.</p>
<p>Phillip smiled, and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Okay, honey, now go to the studio and keep working on those pretty paintings. The men need to talk”. Now that he had showed her off, and announced their reproductive victory, he had no use for Elsie anymore.</p>
<p>Once it was just the men in the room, Phillip searched for a bottle of scotch, a bunch of glasses, and most commanders in the room were happy to grab a drink. Alcohol was forbidden in Gilead, but not for men of their social status.  </p>
<p>Phillip sat down, with a drink in his hand, saying: “Jack, we presented your case to the High Commanders, in DC”</p>
<p>“What did they say?”, Jack’s body tensed, but he tried to act less nervous than he was. According to unconfirmed reports, the real power in Gilead rested in the commanders controlling Washington DC.  </p>
<p>“They were very impressed with your gift”, Phillip admitted, twirling the ice in his scotch. “We all are. And I told them everything you said over the phone, that you regret abandoning your family”</p>
<p>“Will they let you give me a second chance?”, Jack regretted the question instantly. The last thing Phillip needed was a reminder of the fact that other men were more powerful.  </p>
<p>“Let me?”, Phillip scoffed, bitterly. He then drank most of his scotch.</p>
<p>“They <em>ordered</em> him to give you a second chance”, Alan Wilson explained, while handing a drink to a very puzzled Jack. “I think George Winslow's exact words were: <em>The son said ‘Father, I’ve sinned against heaven and against you. I’m no longer worthy to be called your son.’, but the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again</em>"</p>
<p>"Luke 15, the parable of the lost son", Jack whispered, looking at his dad, who seemed clearly conflicted. It was obvious why. Phillip’s desire to have his eldest son working for the family was very much at odds with everything everyone knew about Jack Bauer.</p>
<p>Graem stood by the chimney, with a drink in his hand. He finished it very quickly. “I fear our brothers in DC are being too trusting and forgiving… they don’t know my brother Jack, like I do”</p>
<p>“Do you know me, really?”, Jack brusquely stood up, leaving his full glass of scotch over the coffee table. He got closer to Graem, like challenging him. “You haven’t seen me since my wife’s funeral, ten years ago. You don’t know what I’ve been through since then”  </p>
<p>“Never, in your life, you showed any interest in anything that even resembles what we have created here”, Graem pointed out, trying to keep his chin up.</p>
<p>“I admit I haven’t always been such a pious Christian as you’ve been all your life, little brother…” Jack’s sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. </p>
<p>“Oh, give me a break!”, Graem snapped, forgetting to keep a calm demeanour. “Your wife had her own business. You dated a CEO, and then Audrey Heller, who’s not exactly…” </p>
<p>“Shut up and listen!”, Jack grunted, before Graem could say anything negative about Audrey. He then took a deep breath, refocusing on selling his cover story. “I admit I found the idea of Gilead unsettling at first… but hasn’t it occurred to you, brother, that if this society had been in place ten years ago my wife would be alive today?” Real tears came to his eyes then. As much as Jack detested it, he had to use the truth, to sell the lie. “And she… she was pregnant, when some greedy ambitious whore murdered her. Did you know that? I could have spent the last ten years with my wife, raising our children. Instead, I wasted all this time giving my heart and soul to a government that never cared about me… Where was James Heller when I was trapped in China? Where?” Jack made sure to look at every man in the room, as he made his speech. “Heller abandoned me, after I helped get Charles Logan arrested… that’s the thanks I got. But God never forsake me. God gave me strength and kept me alive”. He sighed and lifted his shoulders. “I think I belong here now”</p>
<p>Graem didn’t buy those words, at all. He was sure Jack would ruin everything, as always. But he wasn’t in a position to get rid of his brother again… yet. The other Commanders in the room were falling for Jack’s story. “I guess I should shut up and celebrate, then”, Graem said, to the glass in his hands. “My brother was dead, and is alive again”. He then pulled Jack closer to him for a fake embrace, whispering only for his ear: “Say one word to anyone about Josh, and I’ll make you beg for Cheng Zhi”    </p>
<p>Jack ignored the threat, faked a smile, and then sat next to his father. “I understand it must be very difficult to trust me, dad. But I’m willing to start from the bottom”</p>
<p>“I actually have a place for Jack in my household”, Alan announced, to everyone’s surprise. “I need a new driver. The one I have now is being sent to the frontlines”</p>
<p>Phillip knew what was really happening. Alan wanted to prevent the Bauers colluding against his own best interests, by keeping Jack on a short leash. But Phillip didn’t mind. Jack’s return to the family still felt too damn good to be true. The patriarch was happy to let his eldest son become Wilson’s problem.</p>
<p>Everything was settled.</p>
<p>“Thank you for this opportunity, sir”, Jack said to Alan, while they were being driven to the Wilson manor by the outgoing driver.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll do well”, the commander’s tone showed some scepticism, but he was willing to keep an open mind for the moment. He had studied Jack’s file back when David Palmer had to be assassinated, and Graem suggested framing Jack for it. He had misjudged Jack then… But it made more sense now that someone with Jack’s history would turn against the US government, after Charles Logan took the blame for the assassination of Jack’s friends, and after China.</p>
<p>“So, what will you do about Taylor?”, Jack asked, trying not to sound too invested in the answer.</p>
<p>“She’s an Unwoman. She belongs in the colonies”, the commander replied flatly and made a pause, to test Jack’s reaction. The other man showed no emotion, so he carried on: “But, of course, I convinced the others that sending her there would be the end of Gilead”</p>
<p>“You did?”, Jack was genuinely surprised. “Why?”</p>
<p>“She’s not some anonymous dyke, doctor or nun nobody cares about”, Alan said in a condescending tone. “She’s America’s exiled vice president. If she disappeared into the colonies, it’d create an international disaster of epic proportions. We have enough problems being accepted internationally as it is. We can’t admit the colonies even exist”</p>
<p>It was exactly what Jack had planned to say all along. He was impressed that Wilson was smart enough to get to that conclusion by himself. “That’s an excellent point, sir”</p>
<p>“The Committee agreed that a quick and public execution for treason against Gilead would be best”</p>
<p>“Really?”, Jack chuckled, as if it was the most stupid idea he’d ever heard in his lifetime.</p>
<p>“You don’t think so?”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter what I think, sir”</p>
<p>“I’d like to know anyway”, Alan was feeling intrigued.</p>
<p>“Well, I think I brought you the best hostage Gilead will ever have, and you’d be wasting an amazing opportunity by killing her too quickly”</p>
<p>“They won’t give us anything for her anyway”, Alan argued. “The US government never negotiates in situations like this”</p>
<p>“That rule applies to terrorists”, Jack reminded him. “We are not terrorists, aren’t we?”</p>
<p>“It depends, are they terrified of us?”, Alan asked right back, with a smug smirk. </p>
<p>“They are”, Jack admitted, showing no emotion, but growing desperate inside. He didn’t know how to save Allison’s life without showing interest in saving her life.  “But I’ve seen the US government secretly cave in to the craziest demands in many desperate situations. So, who really knows? Right?” That caught Wilson’s attention. He wasn’t saying anything that hadn’t crossed the other man’s head already. “It’d still be a great leverage for Gilead, keeping Heller’s pathetic queen alive. All the things she must know… You could get a lot of information about their sad little government from her”  </p>
<p>Wilson didn’t reply. But Jack saw something interesting in the older man’s facial expression: new-found admiration… and just a tiny bit of fear. </p>
<p>Just five minutes after leaving Phillip’s house, the driver parked the car in a similar, very stunning, Victorian mansion.</p>
<p>“It was built of red bricks and woods, in the late 18th century. The oldest one in this area”, Alan said with the biggest proud smile, since Jack seemed very impressed.</p>
<p>Looking at that house, Jack remembered something his father used to say constantly: ‘<em>Money is like those a McMansions that fall apart in a decade, while power is like an old building that stands for centuries. Never respect anyone who can’t appreciate the difference’</em>. As a child, Jack had naively wondered why, if power was better than money, his father worked so hard just to be rich, instead of running for president. Now Jack was much older, had seen a lot more of the real world. Now he understood.</p>
<p>Looking at Wilson, Jack could see where real power had always been hiding.</p>
<p>Not that the ‘Wilsons’ of the world hadn’t always been there. It was that they had been content operating from the darkness, till now.</p>
<p>Any rat’s biggest mistake is, always, to not remain hidden.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading. Let me know your thoughts... did you like Jack's backstory? Is that how you imagined his childhood? How do you feel about flashbacks?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. MY WAY TO YOU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>- In May of 1988... a very young Teri Bauer struggles with her new life as army-wife and mother-to-be... a fellow army-wife offers comfort, unaware of how their fates would end up connected.<br/>- March 2006... Renee meets her first true love.<br/>- April 2016... When a woman known as 'OfAlan' commits suicide, Jack and his allies seize the opportunity to bring somebody new into their resistance movement.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song used is 'Memorized', by Blake Stadnik. I don't own the rights... blah, blah, blah...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>                                                                                                                                                MY WAY TO YOU </strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>May 25<sup>th</sup>, 1988</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Fayetteville, North Carolina.</strong>
</p><p>The sign saying ‘<em>San Isidro Catholic Church</em>’ made her feel insecure. She had never been a very religious person. She stepped into the modest building, nevertheless. Teri needed all the support available. Her baby was due in five weeks, and it was the most terrifying moment in her young life.</p><p>Walking through the front door, she was mystified by the music that filled up the place. It came from the left of the altar. A woman with auburn hair combed in a neat updo was singing with a striking voice, while playing a fancy-looking piano. The singer seemed content performing just for herself. Teri tried not to be noticed, enjoying the music instead. Much to her surprise, the song didn’t seem related to religion.         </p><p>
  <em>Can one wrong turn give me new direction?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Can one false move bring you one true friend?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Could a stranger ever end up being you?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, in the quiet way you caught my eye…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, I got enough to get you memorized</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I found my way… I found my way to you</em>
</p><p>“Em, hello there”, the red-haired singer said, once she noticed her unexpected audience.</p><p>“Hi”, Teri blushed. “I’m sorry to interrupt… I was just looking for the army-wives support group”. She timidly handed the stranger a brochure with information about the group.   </p><p>“Oh, dear”, the older woman shook her head, seeing the problem in the brochure. “This is an old flyer. We changed the days of the meetings two weeks ago”       </p><p>With her back aching, Teri flopped on the nearest bench, breaking down in loud sobs. “I can’t do anything right!”  </p><p>Stunned by such strong reaction, the woman sat next to Teri, awkwardly trying to be comforting by putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay… it’s not your fault” </p><p>“Sorry… I just cry over everything these days”, Teri apologized, getting a tissue from her purse.</p><p>“The third trimester can be like that”, the woman nodded with a bittersweet smile, dragged by memories of her own pregnancy. “Look, I know you were expecting the whole group, but I’m here…”</p><p>Teri looked down and shook her head timidly. “I’d hate to interrupt your day”</p><p>“Don’t be silly”, the lady assured her with a pat on the back. “My husband is at the base; my daughter is at day camp… I have plenty of time to talk”. Her grin reached her blue eyes, suddenly thrilled by an idea. “And I know just the right place… if your pregnancy is like mine at all, you must be craving ice-cream”      </p><p>“I am, actually… all the time”, Teri admitted, delighted to find another woman who understood. None of her friends or sisters had children, yet. “What do you think that’s about?”</p><p>“Not sure. But all I wanted when I was pregnant was strawberry ice-cream”, the older woman helped Teri stand up. “There’s a great place two blocks away. I’ll tell Father Tim I’m leaving and we can go”  </p><p>“Thank you, Hmm…?”, Teri then realised she didn’t even know the name of that kind stranger. </p><p>“Abby Walker”</p><p>“I’m Teri Chapman, I mean, Bauer”, she chuckled. It’d only been a month since the wedding, and she was still adjusting to her new name. “Teri Bauer”</p><p>Just ten minutes later, both of them were walking towards the nearby ice-cream parlour, as Teri held on to Abby’s arm for support. The older woman was doing most of the talking, with a rapid Irish accent. “I thought the summer would give me more with my daughter. But she demanded to go to this swimming day camp, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Naturally, her dad gave in”</p><p>“How old is she?”</p><p>“Six… and already finding ways to avoid me”, Abby sighed. Her eyes showed sorrow for the first time. But she quickly adopted a more cheerful attitude, and changed the subject, not wishing to frighten the mother-to-be. “Anyway, it’s not unusual to find me at the church… either with the army-wives group, the choir, the bible study group… or organizing fundraisers for the school, or whoever is in need”.</p><p>“What was that song you were singing? I really liked it”</p><p>“Em, that’s… that’s just a silly thing I wrote the night I met my husband”, Abby said, with a dismissive shrug. She didn’t believe her own musical talent was too special.</p><p>“So, you’re a professional singer? ‘Cause your voice is fantastic”</p><p>“Thank you”, Abby blushed. “I used to be. I gave that up when I got married. Sometimes, I borrow the church’s piano to play my old songs for fun. No point in buying my own large piano, when we keep moving around, right? It’d only be a bother. I’ll have my own piano when we settle down in one place… someday”. Abby suddenly felt self-conscious. “Sorry for talking too much. I know I can be awfully chatty”</p><p>“Don’t apologize. I like it”, Teri’s smile grew wide. “I’m glad I met you. Jack and I moved here just a week ago, after graduation… I don’t know anyone yet”</p><p>“And you’re not fancying this town much”, Abby guessed, sensing that Teri’s earlier emotional outburst had been about so much more than just ‘<em>pregnancy</em> <em>hormones</em>’.     </p><p>“It’s just... it doesn’t seem like <em>me</em>”, Teri said softly, trying not to be insulting. As a liberal feminist from California, with a fierce passion for art, she was feeling ridiculously out of place in Fayetteville.</p><p>A tiny sympathetic smile creeped on Abby’s freckled features. “I always feel that way in a new city… When I first got here, I hated it but now that we’re about to move again, I wish I could stay”</p><p>“You’re leaving?”, Teri’s heart sunk to her feet. It was disappointing that the first nice person she’d met in her new city would be gone so soon.        </p><p>“That’s the thing about this life, darling”, Abby pointed out, with a sad sigh. She had gained, and then lost quickly, many friends during her marriage. “You start feeling at home, making friends and then your husband gets stationed somewhere else. But you’ll end up with a lot of pen pals”. Her face lit up like a child’s when they reached an ice-cream shop called: ‘<em>Kim’s Gelatos’</em>. “Here we are!”         </p><p>The small shop didn’t look very special. But when Abby brough the ice-creams to their table, Teri understood the older woman’s fascination. It was the most delicious chocolate and caramel ice-cream she had ever tasted. “Wow… this is amazing”</p><p>“I know”, Abby agreed, savouring her own mint and chocolate ice-cream. “The owners are originally from Korea, but learned this recipe when they lived in Italy. That’s why it’s so good”       </p><p>Teri’s gaze then landed on the elder Korean couple working behind the counter. She pictured them blissfully traveling around, and felt a hint of jealousy. “I always wanted to see the world like that”.</p><p>Abby couldn’t help to let out a chuckle at her young friend’s naivety. Then leaned slightly towards her, and lowered her voice: “I don’t think the Kims had much of a choice, darling. At least not at first”</p><p>“I guess not”, Teri admitted, feeling foolish. “But I always <em>wanted</em> to travel a lot and see… places. I grew up in L.A, moved to Rhode Island for college and then to Berkeley for grad school. That’s where I met Jack, then <em>this </em>happened…” Teri said, caressing her bulky belly, where the baby began moving, as if invigorated by the sugar in the ice-cream. “I haven’t travelled much”</p><p>“Ya certainly will now”, Abby pointed out. “Since I met Dennis, we’ve lived in DC, Georgia, South Carolina, Oklahoma, Arizona, Kentucky, here, and now he’s being stationed in Pensacola”. She tried to make it sound like an exciting adventure, but Teri looked dismayed. Not surprisingly, that wasn’t the sort of travelling the mother-to-be had in mind. “Okay… I really hated some of those places”, Abby admitted reluctantly, with a sigh. “But I love my husband, I love looking after my family”</p><p>Teri stared down at her bowl of ice-cream, feeling chastised. “I think I gave you the wrong impression” She looked at Abby in the eyes again, irradiating confidence: “I really love my husband… and this baby”</p><p>“Of course… I never thought the contrary”, Abby rushed to reassure her.</p><p>“When I saw the positive pregnancy test it felt very scary, but so right”, Teri cradled her own belly while searching for the right words. “like I got the answer before hearing the question… you know?” Abby nodded, understanding that feeling very well. “I followed my heart, but I wasn’t thinking about how hard it will be, without him… He’ll get deployed soon, maybe for a whole year”. Her eyes filled with sad tears, as she contemplated raising Jack’s baby, without Jack around. “I’m giving up a job as restorative assistant in Florence to be with Jack, but he won’t even be here. So, what’s the point?”. She wiped her own tears with a paper napkin, flinching as the baby kicked too hard. “You must think I’m crazy”</p><p>“Not at all”, Abby shook her head, and held Teri’s hand, to show support. “I understand. Ya wanted to raise a baby with Jack… but now you’re realising you’ll be raising a baby <em>for</em> him”.</p><p>“Yeah”, Teri nodded, glad that the older woman had found the right words. “It’s not the same”</p><p>“I don’t know what to say”, Abby bit her own thumb nail, while pondering her next words. “You’re right about something… he’ll be gone for months, or one year at the time… for as long as he’s in active duty, it’ll be just you with your child most of the time. That deal works for me. But everyone is different… you have to find a way to make it work for you and your family”</p><p>“Thank you”, Teri said with a tiny smile, appreciating having a sympathetic ear. She felt a small cramp in her belly, but she dismissed it, because they told her those were common in the third trimester. “You know, Abby? I’m so glad I got to know you before you move to Pensacola. Jack doesn’t get that I enjoy talking to total strangers… but…”. She had to stop talking when a cramp became far too strong.</p><p>“Teri, is something wrong?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I… I need the restroom”, Teri tried to stand up, with Abby’s help, but then they both noticed the massive murky puddle on the floor. “Damn it”</p><p>“Oh, God”, Abby noticed the amniotic fluid was too dark, which couldn’t be good. “Mrs. Kim, we need an ambulance, now!”, she shouted at the owner, who grabbed the phone right away. “Teri, help is on the way… ya need to relax. Breathe regular”.    </p><p>“I was fine five minutes ago!”, Teri screamed, terrified and confused. “It’s too soon! I’m 35 weeks.”    </p><p>“You’ll both be okay”, Abby stroke Teri’s hair for comfort, like she did with her own daughter.  </p><p>The ambulance arrived in less than five minutes, and they paramedics put Teri on a gurney, to take her to the nearest hospital. Teri reached out her hand, towards her newest friend. “Abby, I’m scared”</p><p>“I’ll go with ya”, Abby jumped on the back of the ambulance.</p><p> </p><p>Nearly two hours later, Abby was getting a coffee from a machine, in the hospital’s waiting room. All the sudden, a blonde young man stormed in, sweating, with his skin looking reddish for the urgency. He anxiously shouted at the nearest person in hospital uniform. “I’m Jack Bauer. They said my wife’s here, Teri Bauer. She’s pregnant… I need to see her!”    </p><p>“Jack? Everything went splendid. Teri and your baby will be okay”</p><p>Jack turned around, staring with confusion, and distrust, at the woman who had said those words to him. She wasn’t wearing a hospital uniform, but an ordinary summer dress, and he had never seen her before. “How do you know? Who are you?”</p><p>“Just a stranger that was there when her water broke. I didn’t want her to be alone”, Abby replied, with an evasive shrug. “I left a message for you at the base, but they couldn’t reach you…”</p><p>“What happened to her?”</p><p>“The baby was in distress, they had to perform a c-section… but your wife and baby are fine now”, she said with a reassuring smile. Jack was too stunned to utter a word. “Congratulations, Jack. You’re a dad”</p><p>“I.. I need to see them”, he managed to mumble, with his voice breaking due many emotions.</p><p>“Teri’s still sleeping. They used general anaesthetic. But I’ll take you to your baby”</p><p>Jack followed the woman down a corridor, leading to the nursery. Through a large window, they saw several new-borns in their cots. In one of them, the most beautiful tiny infant Jack had ever seen was fidgeting, as if trying to escape the pink blanket. The label on the cot said:</p><p>            ‘<em>Baby Girl Bauer. Birth: 5/25. 4.24 PM - 18.20 inches - 5.12 pounds</em>’   </p><p>“That’s… that’s really her”, Jack couldn’t help shedding a couple of happy tears.</p><p>“Well, now that you’re here, it’s time for me to go”, Abby was pleased that the birth had gone well. She handed Jack a paper napkin she’d been carrying in her pocket. “Please, give this to Teri for me, in case she wants to stay in touch”</p><p>“I will… thank you”, he looked at the paper napkin with the slogan of ‘<em>Kim’s Gelatos’, </em>where the Irish woman had scribbled down ‘<em>Abby’ </em>and an address in Pensacola, Florida. Jack then watched her walk away, marvelled by how his wife managed to strike up friendships with complete strangers.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>March 2nd, 2006</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>The Dubliner Restaurant and Pub. Washington DC</strong>
</p><p><em>‘Live Music Tonight 8PM: Abby Walker’s Galway Tribe’</em>.</p><p>Seeing that sign outside The Dubliner brought tears to Renee’s eyes. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but the significance of the evening was not lost in her. It overwhelmed her with pride that her mother was, finally, singing professionally again. Abby’s new band had been performing at private events and small bars for, nearly, two years. But this was their first performance at The Dubliner, where a young singer known as Abby O’Carroll met a young soldier called Dennis Walker during the summer of 1978. Renee pictured the words ‘fate’ written in the stars, as her mother’s life now came to full-circle.</p><p>She walked into the bar, pleased to see it getting crowded. She spotted Muriel sitting at a table near the small stage, and smiled at the sight of her cousin’s magenta curls. Muriel loved to express an artistic personality by changing her naturally straight auburn hair. Renee envied such free spirit a little bit.</p><p>Muriel jumped on her feet with excitement and rushed to hug her older cousin tight. “Renee, darling! It’s so grand that you’re here! I feel like I haven’t seen ya in almost two years”</p><p>“You haven’t”, Renee pointed out, chuckling. She had returned from Russia four months before, and had been too immersed in the FBI academy since then. She hugged her cousin again. “I really missed you” </p><p>“Me too! Let me buy the drinks because I can now”, Muriel grinned, proudly flashing her ID, showing that she’d been 21-years-old for a few months. In her homeland, she could legally buy drinks from the age of 18, but that was not the case in her adoptive country.     </p><p>“Knock yourself out”. Renee found her cousin’s enthusiasm contagious. She loved her for that. She took off her green coat, and got settled at Muriel’s table. It was still too early for the show. Two band members were setting up and testing the instruments on the stage. It surprised her not to see the lead singer. Soon, Muriel reappeared with two beers and the menus. “You know where my mom is?”</p><p>“Oh, she’s reapplying her make up and redoing her hair… again. She’s awfully nervous about tonight”</p><p>Renee nodded, understanding her mother’s anxiety. “Did you invite Ciara to join us?”</p><p>Muriel startled at the mention of her girlfriend’s name, and looked behind her shoulder, to make sure her aunt Abby was not back from the bathroom. “Shh… I haven’t told your mum that I’m gay, yet” </p><p>“Why not?”, Renee asked with genuine confusion, sounding terribly naïve.</p><p>“Renee, she keeps a picture of the pope on her fridge”</p><p>“Not of the <em>current</em> pope”, Renee clarified awkwardly, as if it made any difference. Then Abby walked out of the bathroom, wearing a sparkly blue dress above the knees, with her long auburn curls floating loose for a change. Renee stood up, amazed, hardly able to recognise her. “Mom, you look beautiful”  </p><p>“Thank you, darling”, Abby hugged her daughter tightly. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t make it tonight”</p><p>“I wouldn’t miss this, mom”, Renee sighed, rolling her eyes. She sat down, and drank some beer, sensing the maternal criticism was about to begin.    </p><p>“And how would I know that?”, Abby pointed out, sitting next to her daughter. “You spent over a year in a different continent, and you’ve barely had time for me since you came back”</p><p>“I saw you for the holidays, mom… and my birthday”, Renee reminded her.</p><p>“I’m just saying, Quantico is not far. I see more of Muriel, and she lives in New York…”</p><p>“Perhaps Muriel has a good reason to travel to DC so often”, Renee said, softly kicking her younger cousin’s shin under the table. Her eyes were saying: ‘<em>Help me’</em>.</p><p>But Muriel looked around at the crowd, acting dumb. “Wow, big crowd for a Thursday night”</p><p>“I know”, Abby grinned feeling eager and nervous at once. She was thrilled to see Renee’s face suddenly lighting up, after reading a text on her cell phone. “Was that from a boy? Are you dating someone?”          </p><p>“No, mom”, Renee sighed with frustration. “Just my friend Zoe Moss. She’ll be here in a few minutes”. She was glad for the chance to see her mentor outside the academy, but the disappointment in Abby’s face was evident. “What’s wrong, mom?”</p><p>“Nothing… nothing”, Abby raised her hands, defensively. She grew nervous when a group of hip college students walked into the bar. It made her feel ancient. “So many young people. They’ll think I’m just a ridiculous old woman that nobody knows with a middle-age crisis”</p><p>“Not at all!”, Renee assured her mother, not understanding why Abby was so insecure. Not only her mother looked great at 51, but her singing voice was the best Renee had ever heard. “They’ll think you should be a star, and you should have never pissed it all away for a husband”. Abby then looked like someone being stabbed in the stomach. “I’m sorry, mom… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it”</p><p>“No, no… it’s okay”, Abby tried to swallow her own angst, and smile. “You always made it very clear that you think I wasted my life being devoted to your father, you, my friends, and the church. That’s why you dumped Clayton, <em>a successful doctor</em> that worshiped you. You’d do <em>anything </em>to avoid being like me”</p><p>Muriel awkwardly left to her more drinks, not wishing to be a part of that discussion.</p><p>“That… that’s not true, mom”, Renee argued with tears of frustration in her eyes. “I’m proud of you… I broke up with Clayton because I didn’t love him enough to marry him”</p><p>Abby’s features softened, realising she was being too harsh. “I’m sorry” She held her daughter’s hand, and very, reluctantly, admitted: “I guess I just worry… I don’t want you to be so alone” </p><p>“I’m not alone, mom”</p><p>“Darling, your only friend in DC is a 68-year-old woman. You haven’t even been on a date since you moved back from Russia… such a pretty girl like you”</p><p>“Mom…”, Renee took a deep breath, trying to adopt a reasonable tone. “I’m getting my badge in four weeks… I have to focus on my career”.</p><p>Muriel returned to the table with two beers and a glass of water with lemon for Abby. She noticed her cousin needed to be rescued, and decided to make a huge sacrifice. “So, I’m seeing someone in DC, a young immigration lawyer, and it’s getting very serious”</p><p>“Really?”, Abby was delighted. “That’s grand, dear. What’s his name?”</p><p>“Her name is Ciara Murphy”, Muriel replied softly, staring down at the beer, while bracing herself for a very offensive religious bashing. Renee held her hand under the table, to show support. Muriel gave her cousin a ‘<em>you owe me one</em>’ look.   </p><p>“Ciara Murphy?”, Abby’s eyes got teary as the implications of such name dawned in her. But not for the reasons the younger women imagined. She stood up to hug her niece with delight. “Congratulations!” She then directed a sharp look towards a Renee. “Did you hear that, honey? Your cousin is dating an<em> Irish</em> <em>lawyer</em>!”. The cousins were visibly amused, and relieved, when Abby sat down again and held Muriel’s hands. “I want to hear everything. How did you meet her?”      </p><p>“When I flew home to see my dad for the holidays, Ciara had the seat next to me… It was fate. We started talking and that was it…”</p><p>“Love at first sight”, Abby stated with a dreamy expression, remembering such feeling.</p><p>“The long-distance is difficult, though”, Ciara sighed. “I might move here, with her, after my graduation”</p><p>Renee then raised her eyebrows, deeply alarmed. “Wait… you’re <em>moving in with her</em>, to a new city, after four months? You hardly know her”</p><p>“What can I say?”, Muriel shrugged. Moving in with Ciara so soon made perfect sense to her. She knew it’d sound insane to others. “I already know she’s the one”</p><p>“How?”, Renee was genuinely terrified for her younger cousin. Making such a commitment after a few months of long-distance dating felt beyond insane to her.  </p><p>Abby was the one to answer, with a somewhat condescending tone. “That’s the type of thing you usually know right away, darling”. A few tears escaped her eyes, as memories of her long-departed husband became too strong. “The moment I first saw your father, I just knew… Seeing his smile for the first time felt like… being struck by a bolt of lightning. It was something I’d never felt before, something I haven’t felt since then”. She wiped her tears away with a tissue, feeling self-conscious. “Well, looks like I need to redo my make-up again”.     </p><p>Renee chose to focus on the menu, trying to figure out what food to order. The conversation about love made her uncomfortable. She had spent five years with Clayton, without experiencing anything like her mother had described. She was feeling like a heartless freak, incapable of having real strong connection with anyone.</p><p>But then Renee’s gaze was suddenly drawn to the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. He walked into the bar looking impossibly smart and dignified, wearing an impeccable navy-blue suit with a burgundy tie. More importantly, he seemed to be about ten years older than her… a real man. His blue eyes met hers for a second, and she felt like all air was sucked from her lungs.</p><p>She was so fascinated ogling <em>him</em>, that for a long moment she didn’t notice her mentor, Zoe Moss, was walking right next to him.    </p><p>“Hey”, Zoe smiled, calling Renee’s attention with a wave.</p><p>Renee instantly stood upto greet her, nearly tripping with the leg of her own chair, but successfully catching her balance. “Hey, Zoe… I’m so glad you made it”</p><p>The older woman greeted her protege with one kiss on each cheek, a custom honouring her own Italian roots. “I hope you don’t mind I dragged my son with me”</p><p>“Not at all”, Renee babbled, reaching out her hand, to greet the attractive man... Zoe’s son, Zoe’s <em>married </em>son. She masked the disappointment quite well. “It’s really nice to meet you, Agent Moss”</p><p>He shook her hand with a charming smile that reached his eyes. “Please, you can call me Larry”.</p><p>“Then you can call me Renee”, she grinned.</p><p>“Deal”, he smirked, not letting go her hand.</p><p>They both became truly flustered when they noticed their handshake lasted several seconds longer than normal. Renee rapidly turned all attention to Muriel. “And this is my cousin, Muriel O’Carroll”</p><p>Muriel politely greeted Renee’s guests, and then gave her cousin a secret look that meant: ‘<em>Girl, you are in so much trouble</em>’. She had noticed the way Renee salivated over that man… and had seen the man’s wedding ring. This could end very badly.               </p><p>It was then time for the band’s performance.</p><p>Abby took the centre of the stage with nervous steps and a timid smile. “Hello… I’m Abby Walker. I hope our music makes your evening more pleasant. I’ll start with a very special song. I wrote it for my husband… but tonight I’ll dedicate it to an old friend of mine, on the second anniversary of her death”.</p><p>She nodded at the guitar player, and a soft tune began filling the atmosphere.  </p><p>“Which friend…?”, Muriel whispered at her cousin, feeling confused. Renee shook her head, and shrugged, mouthing: ‘<em>no idea’</em>.   </p><p>Then Abby’s voice had everyone captivated:</p><p>‘Can one wrong turn give me new direction?</p><p>‘Can one false move bring you one true friend?’</p><p>‘Could a stranger ever end up being you?’</p><p>
  <em>Oh, in the quiet way you caught my eye</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, got enough to get you memorized</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I found my way, I found my way to you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I told a story before I knew the ending</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I got an answer before I heard the question</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How did a stranger ever end up being you?</em>
</p><p>                         <em>Oh, in the quiet way you caught my eye</em></p><p>
  <em>Oh, got enough to get you memorized</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I found my way, I found my way to you</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>
  <strong>April 04th, 2016 </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Eastern District of Gilead. Suburban area in New York City</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><em>The electric shocks made his entire body twinge out of control,</em> <em>while his wrists remained tied to a pipe in the ceiling. His piercing screams filled the dark torture chamber. “The last time you spoke, you asked me to kill you”, Cheng Zhi reminded Jack. “You know I can only do that if you help me” Jack’s answer was to spit some blood to Cheng’s face. Cheng cleaned himself up, remaining calm. “I think you’re not silent to protect your government. You just want to live. You’re a zhāngláng, a cockroach… Around you, everyone dies, everything gets destroyed, but you always survive, like a repulsive cockroach after a nuclear blast”.</em></p><p> </p><p>Jack jerked awake from the nightmare, covered in sweat. His heart was drumming too fast. His hands were shaking. He took three deep breaths, trying to get his own mind and body back to the present. He turned on the bedside lamp, looked at his official state-issued cellphone, and muttered to himself: “I’m Jack Bauer. I’m 50 years old. I’m in New York. Today’s April 4<sup>th</sup>. It’s 5. 20 in the morning”.    </p><p>He stepped out of the bed, trying to concentrate on feeling his bare feet against the wooden floor. He picked up his pillow, sheets and thin blanket from the floor and put them back over the bed.</p><p>Then he took a cold shower, which never failed to ground him. </p><p>He put on his navy-blue guardian uniform, left the apartment over the garage, and headed to the main house through the front lawn. On his way, he greeted a low-ranking guardian recently assigned to Wilson’s house, who was already standing by the main entrance. “Blessed morning, Owen”</p><p>“Blessed morning, sir”, Owen Lockard replied, as formally as when talking to a commander.</p><p>When Jack walked into the kitchen, he found Rita and Bonnie buzzing around, making breakfast for the entire household. Bonnie was a white-haired, chubby woman, in her early 60’s, who often treated Jack as if he were her delightfully annoying little brother. Rita was a dark-skinned lady in her late 30’s, whose beauty was hidden under a hideous pale-green uniform. They were both Wilson’s ‘<em>Marthas</em>’, as all female domestic servants were called in Gilead. Such term had been taken from the holy scriptures, of course. In the bible, a woman called Martha opened her home to Jesus and his disciples. Her sister, Mary of Bethany, listened to Jesus’s word, while poor Martha was too busy with many domestic tasks.</p><p>Jack was tempted by a little basket with freshly-baked scones and stretched out his hand to grab one, but Bonnie immediately slapped his hand way while chastising him, light-heartedly: “Those are for this afternoon, for Mrs. Wilson’s tea with Mrs. O’Niel and Mrs. Marr”</p><p>“Can I have one if I say please?”, Jack asked, with a charming smirk. The Marthas, with their identical unflattering dresses, reminded him of the nice maids who were part of his childhood, which was why he felt comfortable around them.     </p><p>“Okay. Just one”, Bonnie rolled her eyes, and lifted her index finger to emphasise ‘one’.  </p><p>Jack drank his coffee quickly, had a scone, and then poured more coffee into a clean mug. “I’ll bring Owen some coffee. He must be tired, for waking up so early”</p><p>“Okay”, Bonnie and Rita kept working on making breakfast, not paying much attention to him anymore.</p><p>He headed to the main gates of the manor with two mugs full of black coffee, offering one to Owen.</p><p>“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it”, the younger man accepted, with the eager smile of a shy teen being invited to have lunch with ‘the popular kids’. To him, it was a great honor to share coffee with Jack Bauer… a man with vast experience within the USA military and CTU, who had eventually seen the truth about corrupted America, found Jesus, and now did God’s work… such an inspiring tale of redemption… the son and brother of Commanders Phillip Bauer and Graem Bauer, no less.</p><p>“So, you’ve been here for a week now. Are you liking it?”, Jack kept a casual tone, taking a sip of coffee.</p><p>“Of course”, Owen rushed to assure the older man, with a genuine grin. “I thank God every day for the opportunity to serve Commander Wilson’s blessed household. Such an important man”</p><p>“This posting is an honor you’ve certainly earned, Owen”, Jack patted the young man on the back, like a proud father would. “… after serving for two years in the front lines, fighting those American rebels”    </p><p>“I’m just a humble servant of God, sir”, Owen replied, in an effort to avoid the sin of pride.</p><p>It was beyond disheartening for Jack to notice how brainwashed most people inside Gilead were. The urge of beating people up was often powerful. But he’d been doing a terrific job hiding his real emotions, and acting like any regular ‘guardian of the faith’.</p><p>All the sudden, Rita ran across the front lawn, towards them, in tears, looking haunted.</p><p>“Help! It’s OfAlan… I went to wake her up, and her bedroom door is jammed”  </p><p>Without hesitation, Jack and Owen ran inside the house and rushed to the first floor. They both started kicking the door to OfAlan’s bedroom, using all their forces. The same dark suspicion was in their minds.    </p><p>The door was soon busted open, showing nothing but an empty bedroom. Jack intuitively looked inside the private bathroom, finding the woman they had known as ‘OfAlan’ for the last five months lying inside the bathtub. She was just a lifeless body now, soaked in a mix of water and her own blood, with her wrists cut open.</p><p>Jack knew her real name was Cassie Dixon, but he had never called her by that name. He had barely spoken to her at all. He knew close to nothing about her. He just knew that, in 2010, she had a baby boy from a man married to somebody else… which was why the regime had stolen her son and turned her into a handmaid, making her life too damn intolerable.</p><p>Rita screamed in horror at the sight of the corpse, noticing the razor lying on the bathroom floor. “I… I shaved her legs yesterday, for the ceremony”, she tried to explain between sobs. “She must have taken it… I didn’t notice! Oh, God… I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!”  </p><p>Bonnie was also wheeping, while holding the younger ‘Martha’.</p><p>By mid-morning, all the members Wilson’s household stood in the front yard, watching the ambulance workers take Cassie’s body away. Jack noticed that Commander Alan Wilson himself looked distraught, and genuinely shocked, as if struggling to comprehend why a woman stripped of her name, her child, and raped every month would ever commit suicide.</p><p>It was Mrs. Sue Ellen Wilson the one to call the commander on that:</p><p>“What <em>the hell</em> did you expect, Alan?”, she told him off loudly, with fury in her emerald eyes, before rushing back into the house.</p><p>Alan pressed his lips together, saying nothing. Sue Ellen had instigated, and encouraged, his unholy alliance with The Sons of Jacob. But the reality of Gilead was turning out too different from their original fantasy. And his wife was unfairly taking it out on him.</p><p>Then Alan spotted a woman wearing a red handmaid uniform, on her own, standing right outside his house. “Why is that handmaid standing there alone?!”, he snapped at Jack, as if it was Jack’s fault.</p><p>“That must be OfGraem, sir”, Jack replied, struggling to conceal the revulsion he felt for Wilson right then. The woman was wearing a large tunnel-like white bonnet all handmaids had to wear in public. It covered their faces, preventing them from seeing and being seen. But Jack could guess who she was. Handmaids had to take a walk to the market, once a day, to strengthen their abdominal muscles. “OfAlan was her walking partner. She must be here for their walk”</p><p>“Take her back to your brother’s house. The last thing we need is to lose another one”, Alan ordered, before walking back into the house.</p><p>Then Jack approached the unfortunate woman known as ‘OfGraem’, greeting her in the standard way people were supposed to greet handmaids: “Blessed be the fruit”</p><p>“May the Lord open”, she replied as expected, but was visibly shaken.</p><p>Jack looked at Owen and explained: “I’ll make sure OfGraem gets home safely”</p><p>“Under His eye”, was Owen’s way of agreeing.</p><p>“Under His eye”, Jack replied, and walked away with OfGraem.</p><p>Once they were confident nobody could hear them, she spoke again. “What happened, Jack? I saw them take a body. It was OfAlan, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah”</p><p>“How…?”</p><p>“She… made herself free”, was his dire reply.</p><p>OfGraem stopped walking, to try to compose herself. A wave of guilt was washing her. “I thought she was such a strong believer. She acted like a pious little shit”</p><p>“I know. She fooled me too”, he reminded her, struggling with his own guilt. “She never trusted us enough to show us her true feelings. And we didn’t trust her”.</p><p>They only trusted each other by pure luck. He had caught her being too friendly with one of Graem’s Marthas. The women thought their days were numbered. Graem Bauer’s brother would surely report them. Right? But the dreaded black vans never appeared to arrest them for ‘gender treachery’. Instead, Jack took interest in Dr. Emily Malek and her lover, Molly O’Connor, as potential allies.</p><p>“But I know someone, I think, we can trust”, Emily suddenly had an idea so the tragedy could serve to their advantage. “During my training, I met a former FBI agent. She’s a handmaid too. You have to find her and get her assigned to Wilson” Jack seemed doubtful, but Emily insisted. “She was an FBI agent. She could be very useful for us”</p><p>“Where’s she now?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since our training. But, maybe, you can find out. Her name is Renee Walker-Moss, handmaid 2082”   </p><p>They had to stop talking, because they were getting too close to Graem’s house.</p><p>Marilyn Bauer was outside, tending the front garden. She was surprised to see OfGraem back so soon, carrying an empty shopping bag… escorted by Jack. Marilyn took off her gardening globes, and nervously ran her hands down her hair. “Jack… what happened?”</p><p>“I had to bring OfGraem back home. There’s been a tragedy in Commander Wilson’s household”, he explained, trying to keep a flat tone. “We lost OfAlan to suicide”</p><p>“Oh, dear lord”, Marilyn sighed, sad for the girl, but not surprised in the least. Then she approached Emily and held her hands. “This must be so awful for you, OfGraem. I’m sorry for your loss”.</p><p>“Thank you, Mrs. Bauer”, Emily mumbled, and went back into the house.</p><p>Before Jack could leave, Marilyn got a bit closer to him, whispering: “Would you like to come inside, for a cup of coffee?”</p><p>“I really shouldn’t”, he hesitated. In the last two years, he had appreciated any opportunity to spend time in Graem’s house, to learn as much information as possible. But now Marilyn believed he was still romantically interested in her, an illusion that couldn’t be farther from the truth.     </p><p>“Please, we should talk. Don’t you think?”</p><p>Jack gave in, since she seemed so desperate. As soon as he stepped into the living room, he was struck by the sight of a gigantic painting hanging above the chimney. It was tacky new portrait of Graem, next to Marilyn and a little girl dressed in a pink dress. The girl was known as Prissy Bauer. She was a four-year-old girl with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles, who had been ‘adopted’ by Graem and Marilyn. Jack had no idea where on earth they had gotten that child from.   </p><p>“Yay! Uncle Jack’s here!”, a little voice squealed happily.</p><p>Jack turned around and saw the girl from the painting, rushing to hug him. “Hey, sweetheart… I was looking at the new portrait… you look beautiful, like a princess”</p><p>“You’re here for my tea party? Molly made cookies!”, Prissy’s excitement sparkled in her pale blue eyes.</p><p>Jack saw that Prissy had organised a dozen of dolls and stuffed animals on the floor, around the coffee table. The kid was pretending to serve them tea and tiny cookies. ‘Uncle Jack’ had participated in a few of her tea parties before, much to Graem’s dismay.</p><p>“Actually, Prissy…”, Marilyn said, “I need you to finish the party and get ready for the park. You’ll get to play with your friends and ride your new bike”</p><p>Right on cue, Molly brough in a small pink bicycle with training wheels. Prissy was thrilled to see it.</p><p>“You know? You and Molly can go to the park right now and pick up the toys later”, Marilyn said, and the child jumped to her arms with excitement.</p><p>“Thank you, mommy!”</p><p>Marilyn had a bittersweet smile on her face, while watching the child leave, and said to Jack: “She begged for a bike till she wore Graem down. She’s very good at getting what she wants”.</p><p>It was frowned upon in Gilead for girls to ride bikes, but there was no official law against it in their district… yet. Everything was constantly changing in their new republic.       </p><p>“Kim’s first bike was pink too”, Jack commented, as he followed Marilyn into the kitchen. “It had a white basket, and Teri painted the words ‘<em>Princess Kimmy’</em> on it…”</p><p>Jack kept his eyes nailed in Marilyn’s, to test her reaction to his comment. Prissy’s bike would have no words at all. That child would never own anything with her own name, for she wasn’t allowed to even see any letters. Graem had helped create a society where little girls would never be taught how to read and write. Did Marilyn care at all? Why had she staid by Graem’s side through everything? But Jack couldn’t ask her those questions without blowing his own cover.    </p><p>“Long time ago”, Marilyn got awfully uncomfortable and looked away from him, focusing on making the coffee. “It’s funny, we live five blocks away now, but we barely talk anymore”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to ignore you”, Jack’s tone lacked conviction. “I just… I don’t want to get you in trouble”</p><p>“I don’t blame you”, Marilyn clarified in an instant, her dark blue eyes getting teary. “Graem would send me to the colonies and have you executed if we…”. She took a few steps towards him. “But maybe it’s worth the risk”. She tentatively held his hand. “All these years, I regretted that things didn’t work out between us… I think you regret it to”  </p><p>She moved even closer to him and tried to kiss him, but Jack moved away before her lips could touch his. He had several regrets, but his break-up with Marilyn had never been on the list. He’d been heartbroken for a while, back then… but it’d always been evident that she was wrong for him, especially after she married Graem. She had always been just a trophy wife. And now she was also complicit in every atrocity done in Gilead, including raping Emily and stealing Prissy from some unfortunate mother.          </p><p>“I’m sorry, Marilyn. I can’t now. It’s too dangerous”, he said, in an attempt to let her down gently. Jack wasn’t cruel enough to tell her the truth: even if he was stupid enough to pursue a romantic relationship inside Gilead, she would likely be the last woman he’d turn to.</p><p>Marilyn nodded, turning around to hide her tears from him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>April 15th, 2016</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>New Gilead District. Suburban house, in Cambridge, Boston. </strong>
</p><p>Earlier in the day, OfHarvey had obediently held the wool as Mrs. Altman knit a scarf in the living room, with the television on. Gilead only had one TV channel, showing only state propaganda, or special religious services called ‘<em>Prayvaganzas</em>’, or sermons and male choirs singing pre-approved hymns. Yet, OfHarvey appreciated being allowed in the room while the TV was on. In her new depressing life, any diversion was welcomed. For instance, a man on the TV mentioned the day was April 15<sup>th</sup> of 2016, and, later, she was able to get lost inside her own mind thinking about that.          </p><p>It’d been exactly 30 months and two days since they murdered her husband and arrested her. She then spent nearly two months at The Red Centre, training to become a handmaid. Right after, she was sent to Commander Andrew Pryce’s house. After two whole years in that household, she was sent to Commander Harvey Altman. She had been known as ‘OfHarvey’ ever since.       </p><p>A Handmaid’s main ‘duty’ was to let the commander penetrate her, while lying on her back, literally between his wife’s legs, on the edge of his bed. It was called ‘the ceremony’… and it happened during the fertile days of her menstrual cycle, three consecutive days.</p><p>She had regular 30-day cycles, and had been a handmaid for 28 months. That meant…. 84 ceremonies. Except that she had spent one cycle in the Red Centre between assignments. 81. And Pryce had failed to get an erection in two occasions. 79. He also caught the flu once, which left him out of commission for a cycle.. So… 76. Yep... that seemed about right.</p><p>She had already disrespected Larry’s memory 76 times. And the 77<sup>th</sup> time was still happening.     </p><p>Renee silently did the math while Harvey Altman was still inside her.</p><p>She’d learnt to detach herself, to treat it like a job. She wasn’t really there. And he was… whoever she wanted him to be, or nothing at all. Her time with Vladimir Laitanan had trained her well to get through these… ceremonies? She didn’t know how to call what the Commander did under her skirt. The technical word was ‘copulation’ or ‘intercourse’. But it didn’t feel accurate. By definition, sex needed two people. Only one person was actually involved in this particular… act.</p><p>She was reluctant to call it ‘rape’. Harvey had never done anything she hadn’t signed up for. Neither had Andrew Pryce. She’d been given another option: to dig dirt and die in a radioactive wasteland. Larry would say that type of ‘choice’ <em>was</em> rape… a four-letter word meant to strip her of all guilt. And he’d want her to live long enough to be reunited with their daughter. So, she had to stay alive… for her.</p><p>Renee focused her eyes on the canopy of the bed. It was forest-green, with embroidered golden leaves and tree branches. It made her think of the weekends spent at Big Zoe’s cabin, in Pennsylvania. The last time they were able to enjoy a few days there was during Larry’s 40<sup>th</sup> birthday. Little Zoey was barely six months old then, and kept trying to crawl away from the blanket, to touch the grass. Renee, being allergic to grass herself, was preventing it out of concern. But when the adults got distracted for just five seconds, Zoey pulled the blanket, felt the grass underneath and giggled more loudly than ever.</p><p>The sweet memory put the tiniest smile on Renee’s face.</p><p>She was snapped back into her dreadful present when the Commander’s breathing got a lot heavier. A strange wheezing noise coming from his mouth resonated through the bedroom. He looked sweaty, and pale as a ghost. All the sudden, he pulled himself away from Renee and vomited on the carpeted floor.</p><p>His wife left the bed, to try to help him. “Oh, God, Harvey, are you okay?”</p><p>He was barely able to shake his head. He took a couple of steps towards the bathroom and collapsed.</p><p>A panicked Mrs. Altman tried shaking him and slapping him, to wake him up. Seeing how he remained unconscious, she ran off screaming for help.</p><p>Renee had laid silent and still through it all. Feeling nothing. Once alone, her curiosity made her examine what now was Harvey’s corpse. It looked like a heart attack, except his skin felt clammy and was already far too cold, for someone who had died just a minute before. That fact, plus his vomiting, made her think of poisoning by some variant of aconitine.</p><p>Aconitine was tough to detect in an autopsy. It could be done, if you were looking for it, but Gilead didn’t have resources for a comprehensive autopsy. They wouldn’t do one, unless they had very strong reasons to suspect foul play. The regime’s resources went mainly towards its impressive military structure. There was little money left to invest on forensic sciences. </p><p>It didn’t matter to her how he died, or who’d killed him. She wasn’t even happy to see him dead. What difference did it make to her? She would just get assigned to a different Commander anyway. Perhaps she should feel scared about that, worried… ‘<em>better the devil you know than the devil you don't’</em>. But she wasn’t feeling anything at all. Except a deep rage.   </p><p>Daring to one final little act of rebellion as ‘<em>OfHarvey</em>’, Renee gave the commander’s body the firm kicks in the groin she had always wished to give him.</p><p>Soon, the ambulance showed up and the medics confirmed Harvey Altman was dead. After a quick examination, the death was ruled as a heart attack and the body was taken away.  </p><p>It surprised nobody when a very distraught Mrs. Altman screamed at the guardians: “Get that dirty whore out of my house <em>now</em>!”.</p><p>Renee was already putting her few personal belongings inside an antiquated red suitcase. She figured they’d take her back to ‘<em>The Rachel and Leah Centre’</em>, where handmaids were trained, and spent their time between postings. The place was officially named after Jacob’s two wives: Leah, unloved but blessed with fertility, and her sister Rachel, very loved but barren. Unofficially, the building was known as ‘The Red Centre’. Red, like a Handmaid’s uniform, or the blood shed during menstruation or childbirth. In Gilead, victory and defeat ended in the same color. ‘Red’ was also short for re-education. Renee felt that unofficial name was more suitable.  </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, Aunt Lydia showed up, and practically dragged Renee to the back of a car. “I can’t believe this!”, the older woman sighed, visibly troubled. “Commander Altman was such a good man. He opened his home to you!”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Aunt Lydia”, Renee merely parroted what was expected from her. The death had been ruled as a heart attack, but it had happened during the ceremony, so she was supposed to feel mortified and guilty about it. “Very, very sorry”</p><p>“You were an adulterer, a whore! But God gave you a chance to redeem yourself… and you’re ruining it” </p><p>“I’m sorry, Aunt Lydia”, Renee repeated mechanically, not even looking at the other woman. She had, to some extent, learnt how to be detached during Lydia’s insane ramblings as well as during the ceremony.</p><p>It made Lydia furious that the red-haired sinner was just saying the right words, without meaning them. But she knew how to deal with fake-apologies. With the smirk of someone about to give an enemy bad news, she said: “Well, you’ll have time feel really sorry before you’re sent to your final posting”</p><p>Renee straightened her back, alarmed. Hoping she’d misheard, she turned her eyes on Lydia. “<em>Final</em> posting, Aunt Lydia?”</p><p>“Yes. You had two postings, but weren’t fruitful. You know the rules. The next one will be your last”</p><p>Renee struggled not to panic. Her last posting. If she didn’t get pregnant by the next commander, she’d be sent to the Colonies. She shook her head, in desperate denial. “But… postings are supposed to last two years. I was at Commander Altman’s household for only five months. It doesn’t count!”</p><p>“Of course, it counts!”, Lydia snapped, unable to believe the younger woman’s insolence. “You’re such an ungrateful little girl! You’re lucky you are even getting one last chance!” </p><p>As they walked into ‘The Red Centre’, the former high school building turned into a prison, Renee had tears in her eyes. She had one last chance to get pregnant. What if she got a sterile commander? Rumour had it, most of them were ‘shooting blanks’. The death of Altman had potentially shortened her own life by a year and a half. She didn’t believe her luck could get any worse, it seemed impossible…</p><p>Then she recognised the ‘aunt’ watching the gymnasium where other handmaids were already sleeping in cots, or silently pretending to sleep. Renee was dismayed, unable to believe her eyes.    </p><p>‘<em>Her? Seriously, God? What the actual fuck?</em>’</p><p>It was Larry’s first wife: Carla Moss… Her golden-blonde hair held together in the tightest updo. She was dressed in a brown gown and carrying a cattle prod.  </p><p>The last time they had laid eyes on each other, Renee was seven months pregnant. She was enjoying lunch in the food court of a shopping mall with Larry, after a morning of buying things for their baby. They were in their own blissful universe. As Larry tried to feel his baby kick, they heard a tray being dropped behind them, and a plate crashing on the floor. They saw Carla, standing there, looking desolated, in shock. She left rapidly, and Larry didn’t run into her again till a year later, when a friend from their old high school organised an informal reunion. That day, by Larry’s account, Carla seemed happier than ever and mentioned finding new friends, a new purpose. He saw nothing wrong with that and felt happy for her, so did Renee. Ten days later, a bus blew up in NYC, setting off the series of terrorist attacks that would ultimately justify the coup.            </p><p>‘<em>How could we be so stupid</em>?’, Renee wondered now.</p><p>Carla’s lips curbed in a satisfied grin. She had spent too long waiting for this moment. “Welcome back to the Red Centre, Renee”. She patted an empty cot, obviously enjoying the power. “Come on, now… you know the drill. Bed time from 9 PM to 6 AM”. Waving her index finger, she added: “But not before 15 minutes of prayer”   </p><p>Renee dumped her suitcase on the cot, and turned around to face her, feeling repulsed. “How can you work for these bastards?” For the last thirty months, she had played by the rules, to preserve her own life and body parts. But watching Larry’s ex turned into one of Gilead’s aunt, made her deep wrath impossible to control. In an impulse, Renee tackled the blonde woman to the ground, managing to punch her in the face three times. “They murdered Larry! They shot him!”        </p><p>Lydia gasped in horror, and futilely attempted to separate them by pulling Renee away from behind, unable to use electric shocks without hurting her fellow ‘aunt’ as well.</p><p>Some of the other handmaids cheered Renee on, from their beds, with one yelling out: “Yay! Kill her!”</p><p>Soon, a few other aunts and a couple of guards appeared to control the chaos.</p><p>Then Renee was pulled away from the blonde aunt, beaten, and given electric shocks, until she could hardly move. They dragged her to one of the rooms used to isolate the most problematic prisoners. She had been in one of those before. There was nothing but a mat to rest, and a bucket to use as toilet. Feeling too emotionally and physically pained to do much else, she laid on the mat, sobbing.</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Lydia led Carla to the room used as infirmary. A medic on duty, examined the blonde aunt’s pointy nose and eyes, to check the damage. He then put some cotton inside her nostrils, to stop the bleeding, and handed her an ice-patch. “Keep ice on it, ma’am. The bleeding should stop in a few minutes. It doesn’t look too serious, praised be”.</p><p>“Praised be”, Carla’s voice sounded even more nasal than usual.</p><p>“Would you like any pain killers?”, the doctor asked.</p><p>Even though the pain was excruciating, Carla replied: “Pain brings us closer to God”</p><p>The doctor bowed slightly at her. “May we all show Him such faith and devotion, Aunt Carla”</p><p>“Yes, indeed”, Lydia agreed, although her tone was more cynical. Once the doctor left them alone, Lydia patted the medical bed, purposely imitating the younger woman’s earlier power-move. “You should get a good rest tonight. I’ll take over your duties”.</p><p>“Thank you very much” Carla tried to smile, but it made her face hurt even more.</p><p>“This is <em>exactly</em> why Aunts should stay away from Handmaids they know from before”, Lydia let out a frustrated sight. There was some anger mixed with distrust in her greyish eyes. “Why would you do this to yourself? You were doing well in DC, helping stablish The Vidala Schools. But <em>you </em>requested a transfer to the Handmaid program, in <em>this </em>district, knowing she’d be here and things would get messier…”</p><p>“I only want to be where God and Gilead need me the most”, Carla assured her colleague.</p><p>“Yeah”, Lydia scoffed. She wasn’t falling for it, but wasn’t in position to defy the younger aunt. “Aunt Vidala herself vouched for your integrity and commitment to our cause”            </p><p>“I’m honoured to hear that. She’s been such a good friend. Probably the best I ever had”</p><p>Lydia chuckled at the blonde woman’s naivety. “There are no friends here. Only people who can be useful to you, and those who can’t”, she stated with a bitter tone, while gently wiping some blood from Carla’s face. “You better keep that in mind, my dear”. But she rapidly readopted a more ‘Gileadean’ attitude, leaving the room with a: “Have a blessed night. I’ll keep you in my prayers”   </p><p>“And you’ll be in mine”, Carla muttered, feeling baffled by the conversation. </p><p> </p><p>Like during her original training, Renee was kept awake all night in the isolation room, with loud noises and iced-water.</p><p>Once morning arrived, she was dragged to the area where the other handmaids were eating breakfast. She had to sit down and say grace along everyone else, but the aunts didn’t feed her. A petite blonde handmaid sitting next to Renee, subtly handed her some bacon and a piece of bread under the table.</p><p>Renee gave the stranger a tiny smile and nod of appreciation. “Thanks…”</p><p>“I’m June. What you did last night… we all wanted to”, the blonde handmaid whispered, with a hint of jealousy, when the aunts couldn’t hear. “You must be very brave”</p><p>“Or very stupid”, Renee pointed out, deflated. All attacking Carla had accomplished was getting <em>herself</em> beaten, tasered and dumped inside a solitary cell, without food.</p><p>They had to be silent again when Aunt Lydia barged into the room, clapping her hands. “Hurry up, girls. Confession time in five minutes”.</p><p>Once they were done eating, a woman in a grey uniform was brought into the dining room and slowly began cleaning up, limping slightly. She was tall, skinny, with long greyish and black hair.</p><p>Renee found it beyond strange. The grey uniform meant that person was an ‘Unwoman’. But why was that ‘Unwoman’ <em>not</em> at the colonies, digging radioactive dirt? Since when they had ‘Unwomen’ doing domestic tasks in Red Centres?</p><p>Before she could give that Unwoman a better look, or ask June about it, the Handmaids were taken to the gymnasium. In there, twenty-five chairs were forming a circle, with one chair in the middle of it.</p><p>Carla dragged Renee to the chair in the middle, gloating: “You’re first today”. She could barely open one of her brownish eyes, her nose was still swollen, but she was eager to witness this particular confession.</p><p>Then Aunt Lydia walked to the middle of the circle, speaking firmly: “Girls, these confessions are to repent, to unburden yourselves from your sins. Yesterday, this foolish girl here…”. She pointed angrily at Renee, who was doing her best to look emotionless. “…was violent and blamed <em>others</em> for the death of the man <em>she</em> herself corrupted”. She turned to the other handmaids, her voice growing louder. “That man was <em>salvaged</em> because he was guilty of adultery. And who led him to commit such horrible sin?”      </p><p>“She did! She did!”, every other handmaid chanted, with their index fingers pointed at Renee. Refusal to do so could carry horrible physical consequences for themselves.</p><p>“Who made that man leave his godly wife?”, Lydia asked to the whole group.</p><p>“She did! She did!”, all the girls chanted mechanically, once again.</p><p>“I did, Aunt Lydia”, Renee agreed with a weak tone, hoping to make the confession end sooner. Her angry stare fixated on Carla, who was trying to hide a sadistic grin. </p><p>“He’s dead because he broke a sacred vow”, Lydia stated. “And whose fault was that?”</p><p>“Her fault! Her fault!”, the other handmaids replied, obediently.</p><p>“Whose fault was that?”, Lydia repeated raising her voice, banging Renee’s chair with the cattle prod.</p><p>“It was my fault”, Renee’s voice began to break, her eyes got teary. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t avoid feeling real guilt. Lydia wasn’t introducing any notion that hadn’t haunted Renee already.  </p><p>“That’s not all, girls”, Lydia was invigorated by watching the last of Renee’s resolve crumbling. “Before stealing somebody else’s husband, she let some Russian criminal get her pregnant!”.</p><p>“Whore! Whore!”, the other handmaids chanted what they were supposed to.</p><p>Renee didn’t blame them at all. She understood their position. She tried to keep a steady voice, as she confirmed: “It’s true. I lived in sin with a criminal and let him get me pregnant”</p><p>“And what happened to that baby?”, Lydia asked, always knowing <em>exactly</em> what worked to break each of the handmaids under her purview.</p><p>Renee shook her head, looking into Lydia’s greyish eyes briefly, as if begging the older woman not to go <em>there</em>. Then, she finally whispered: “I had a miscarriage”</p><p>“And whose fault was <em>that</em>?”, the ‘aunt’ asked, as if sticking a knife in Renee’s gut.</p><p>“The father got wasted and beat me up”, Renee sobs echoed through the entire gymnasium.  </p><p>“And that wasn’t your fault?”, Lydia asked her, as if it was insane to suggest it wasn’t. “Who put herself in that position? Who chose to be around him and made him do such awful thing? Who did?”</p><p>The room was stunned into silence. The handmaids stared at each other in horror. Nobody wanted to say what was expected from them. But then Carla tasered one of them with the electric cattle prod, as an example. So, very reluctantly, the rest pointed their fingers at Renee and chanted: “She did! She did!”</p><p>“So, whose fault was it?”</p><p>“Her fault! Her fault!”</p><p>“Why did God allow such horrible thing to happen?”, Lydia asked the group.   </p><p>“To teach <em>her</em> a lesson! To teach <em>her</em> a lesson!”, the handmaids answered.</p><p>“Aunt Lydia, I bet she didn’t even want that baby”, Carla then suggested out of the blue, as if it’d just occurred to her. She took pleasure in Renee’s horrified reaction.</p><p>“I did! I really did”, Renee rushed to assure everyone, not being convincing at all. She stared into Aunt Lydia’s eyes with obvious desperation again. “I wanted it”  </p><p>Not fooled, Lydia put a hand on the handmaid’s shoulder, acting compassionate. “I’ve seen this sin tear you up inside since we met, Renee”. She softly rubbed the younger woman’s neck, as if trying to relieve the tension. “Just let it out… tell the truth, to unburden your soul”.</p><p>With tears rolling down her cheeks, Renee reluctantly admitted: “Okay. I didn’t want it” </p><p>“To reject God’s blessing of a baby is among the gravest sins!”, Lydia snapped with genuine fury.   </p><p>Once again, Carla prompted the handmaids to start chanting: “Sinner! Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!”</p><p>“I’m sorry”, Renee bawled, hiding her face between her hands, feeling shattered. “I’m so sorry”</p><p> </p><p>She was later dragged back into the isolation room, but was in no shape to cause trouble anyway. She laid on the mat, crying until it felt as if her own tears were drowning her. Her stomach jerked brusquely, and the little food in her stomach was expelled through her mouth, winding up on the floor.</p><p>Eventually, one of the aunts spotted the vomit. Then, the mysterious ‘unwoman’ in grey uniform was shoved inside the room and ordered to clean the entire floor with a tooth brush. The aunts’ evident goal was to humiliate that particular person.</p><p>Renee was more intrigued by her than ever. “Who are you?”</p><p>“Nobody. An Unwoman”, she replied, while rubbing the toothbrush against the floor.</p><p>The older woman had a couple of missing fingers in the right hand, and her left ear had been chopped off. But a prisoner inside Gilead with missing body parts surprised nobody anymore. It was only baffling that they kept this particular ‘Unwoman’ at the Red Centre.</p><p>“How come you’re not in the Colonies?”, Renee asked.</p><p>Such question terrified the older woman, who babbled: “I’m really lucky to be here. I’m very thankful”</p><p>Then Renee finally recognised the skittish person cleaning the floor. It shook her like ice-water…  </p><p>Inside Gilead, diverse rumours about this famous woman’s whereabouts had been circulating since her capture became known. Some people affirmed she was now at the colonies. Others swore her body was seen hanging from the White House roof for a week, and then fed to pigs. There were also those who claimed there was no capture. She had simply given up on the USA, and was secretly spending her days drinking margaritas by the ocean, in Figi.</p><p>And, yet, Renee was looking right at her.   </p><p>“Jesus-fucking-Christ! You’re Allison Taylor!”</p><p>“I’m not”, Allison shushed her in a heartbeat, looking around, terrified that one of the ‘aunts’ was listening. “That name is forbidden now”</p><p>“I won’t say it”, Renee reassured her, at the verge of tears. It was heart wrenching to see what Gilead had done to the formerly fierce Allison Taylor. “But I know it’s you… and I’m… I’m Renee Walker-Moss”. She felt as if chocking while trying to get those simple words out. She hadn’t said her own full name out loud in ages. “We met once, on the day of your book-launching, do you remember me?”</p><p>After giving Renee a quick glance, Allison shook her head nervously, and then kept cleaning as if both of their lives depended on the floor being immaculate.</p><p>“My husband and I loved your book”, Renee whispered, trying not to crumble down crying again. “But nothing compared to hearing you speak… Larry and I watched the senate debate the abortion bans on c-span and we were blown away when it was your turn to speak… You gave <em>them</em> hell”.</p><p>Allison closed her eyes, shaking her head again, refusing to even think about such old times.</p><p>“You were impressive, Allison. The type of woman I always admired”</p><p>“No, I was a sad failure”, Allison rushed to correct her, using a firm tone for the first time. “They passed the ban eventually anyway, and… here we are”</p><p>“Here we are”, Renee sighed, dismayed by how low they both had sunk.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>April 17th, 2016</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Since her spirit was broken anyway, Renee was allowed to join her fellow handmaids for breakfast. This time, she was well-fed… to reward her meekness. In spite of the emotional turmoil, she was starving and devoured the bacon, eggs and bred.</p><p>Aunt Lydia then walked into the room, with a cheerful demeanour, saying: “Blessed day, girls”. Then she approached June. “You’re a lucky girl. After all this waiting, the Lord has rewarded you with a second posting… right here, in this district. Looks like we’ll see a lot of each other this time”    </p><p>“I’m very blessed, Aunt Lydia”, June replied as expected. In reality, the only perk of spending her first posting in Philadelphia had been <em>not</em> seeing Aunt Lydia, who had terrified her during three months of training. On the other hand, June had hoped to stay in Cambridge this time and run into her friends from those training days, such as Alma, Brianna, Dolores, or even bat-shit crazy Janine. Above all, she wanted to see Moira and Hanna. But such dream seemed beyond impossible.                 </p><p>“You really are blessed, <em>OfFred</em>”, Lydia nodded. “Commander Waterford is a very important man”  </p><p>“May God make me truly worthy”, June replied, acting like the very model of a thankful handmaid. As soon as Aunt Lydia walked away, June’s hands began trembling, as tears fell from her eyes. “Fred Waterford”, she whispered that name, having no idea of what to expect. She turned to Renee, with some desperation showing, “Do you know anything about him?”    </p><p>“Not really”, Renee admitted. “He’s married to Serena Joy Waterford… she used to be on the radio and TV all the time, back in the old days”. June nodded, remembering who Renee was talking about. “Sorry, I haven’t heard much about him”.   </p><p>“I just hope he’s a <em>ceremonies-only</em> type of commander”, June admitted, with her hands nervously linked, as in prayer.    </p><p>After breakfast was over, June had to pack for her new posting, while the other handmaids headed for ‘exercise time’, which happened twice a day. It consisted in walking around what had once been the school’s football field. It was now surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. It made Renee feel like a fish moving inside the fishbowl, or a hamster in the wheel. She detested that feeling. Her whole life for the last thirty months had been one constant suffocating prison, where the best she could hope for was to get a ‘<em>ceremonies-only type of commander’</em>.</p><p>Several minutes into ‘exercise time’, Aunt Lydia walked towards Renee, looking shocked, with distrust in her eyes: “You need to stop and go pack, now. You were given a new posting too”</p><p>“Already?” Renee raised an eyebrow. It usually took longer than a couple of days to find a new posting. It felt things were moving rather quickly for her, which explained Lydia’s suspicious look.    </p><p>“Yes. Aren’t you a lucky girl?” Lydia’s severe tone and gaze were actually telling her: ‘<em>Go ahead and complain, I dare you’</em>.</p><p>“The luckiest, Aunt Lydia”, Renee replied, trying to mask the sarcasm. </p><p>“You are much luckier than you think, <em>OfAlan</em>”, the aunt stated. “Your final posting is at Commander Alan Wilson’s blessed household”</p><p>“Sorry, Aunt Lydia… you mean Commander Alan Wilson, chairman of the original Committee?”, Renee asked, in disbelief, feeling puzzled. She never thought they’d sent someone as important as Wilson a handmaid in her mid-30’s, whose former commander had died during the ceremony.</p><p>“The one and only”, Lydia confirmed.</p><p>Renee then thought of that distant evening she and Larry met Alan Wilson in person. Ironically enough, it had involved a ceremony…</p><p>
  <em>Soon after Abu Fayed was found and killed, The Committee gave medals to all law-enforcers, military personnel, and intelligence officers who played a role in Fayed’s capture. Larry Moss, and other male FBI agents, were rewarded for their hard work during, and after, the DC massacre. After the award ceremony, there was a fancy reception in The White House East Room. Larry found Renee, sulking but trying to behave nice, by the buffet table. She sadly put a hand over his chest, where his medal was, where George Winslow himself had just placed it. Larry didn’t hesitate to take it off and pin it on her blue dress instead. “I told them this belongs to both of us”, he said. “It’s the truth. We did it together. I’ve been saying so to everyone I’ve talked to since it happened”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you”, Renee was sincerely moved. But her husband’s devotion just didn’t feel enough. “We both had to send our baby girl with your mom, for three months, while we worked on the investigation, on securing DC... How dare those sexist clowns say my sacrifice was not as important?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then they noticed Alan Wilson standing behind them, quietly waiting for them to move, to get food from the table. It was creepy to them that they hadn’t noticed him, as if he was a ghost. Showing no emotions, he grabbed a couple of tuna sandwiches, while saying: “I’ll personally explain it to your baby, Mrs. Moss, when I perform at her next birthday party. Unless she’s scared of clowns?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Terrified, actually, sir”, Renee babbled fast, feeling mortified. It was unlike her to insult the leaders of her country to their faces, while standing in the White House. As much as she detested them.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Go figure”, said Wilson, walking away.</em>
</p><p>Now Renee remembered Larry spending the rest of the reception following Wilson around, like a puppy dog, trying to mend the situation. She recalled being so stressed over a medal… Everything felt so tragically absurd now, knowing that the FBI’s hard work had been used to justify the coup and the creation of Gilead. Renee couldn’t help breaking down in nervous laughers.</p><p>Lydia was stunned. “Is something funny, <em>OfAlan</em>?” Renee’s laugher grew even louder. The other handmaids stopped walking in circles, to see what was happening. Lydia then slapped Renee, who appeared on the middle of mental breakdown. “What’s wrong with you?”</p><p>Renee finally composed herself, remembering to stay sane, for her daughter. “I’m sorry, Aunt Lydia”</p><p>“You don’t seem aware of how lucky and blessed you are”, Lydia scolded her. “You’re 34 years old, you weren’t fruitful in your first posting, and your second Commander passed during the ceremony… but this very important family will open their home to you”</p><p>“I know I’m lucky, Aunt Lydia”, Renee assured her in a heartbeat. This time she wasn’t laughing at all. She just found the situation very odd. “I’m just wondering why one of Gilead’s founding fathers is getting such a terrible handmaid”   </p><p>“God works in mysterious ways”, Lydia replied with resignation, as if she herself had been wondering the exact same thing, without finding a satisfying answer. She sighed, and escorted Renee back inside the building. “It’s a shame I won’t be able to keep an eye on you, since I have to stay here”.  </p><p>“Very sad thing, Aunt Lydia”</p><p>Lydia noted the veiled sarcasm in Renee’s voice, and responded with an ironic remark of her own. “Well, I hope having Aunt Carla as head Aunt of your new district helps you live with the disappointment”</p><p>Renee wasn’t even surprised to learn that Carla would be still around. She just thought to herself: ‘<em>God works in mysterious ways and has a sick sense of humor’</em>.</p><p>Lydia watched the handmaid pack, to make sure there were no incidents. Then she spoke to Renee with the same tone one would use with a child: “You better go to the bathroom now, OfAlan. You have a long journey, and there’ll be no stops” </p><p>Renee rolled her eyes, but headed to the bathroom, without arguing. It wasn’t worth it. Yet, inside the stall, she broke down in loud sobs, feeling hopeless.</p><p>For thirty months, she had feverish dreams about tanks with flags from multiple countries and soldiers, with uniforms identical to her father’s, liberating Gilead… In those dreams, she’d join them in an instant. She’d make commanders and aunts wheep in vain, before hanging them from light poles or trees.             </p><p>But that could only happen in her wildest fantasies… The cold reality was widely different. Even the smallest act of defiance, such as punching Carla, ended up backfiring.</p><p>Just as she felt there was no point in even staying alive, Renee was startled by Allison Taylor’s trembling whispers through a hole in the white wood of the stall: “I remember you, Agent Walker-Moss. You can’t give up. There are people inside Gilead fighting back. Join them. The password is Mayday”</p><p>Renee stormed out of her own stall, hoping to see Allison’s face, but the bathroom was already empty.</p><p>She then washed her face with cold water, pondering about the implications of Allison’s words.  </p><p>Rumours about a secret resistance fighting the regime from the inside had been going around for ages, although the regime officially denied its existence. Renee felt very stupid now for, ever, doubting such resistance movement was real. Of course it was real. It had to be. A shadow couldn’t exist without light. There had to be ‘<em>us</em>’, because there certainly was a ‘<em>them</em>’. It gave her hope getting confirmation from Allison Taylor, who apparently was less broken than it’d seemed. It wasn’t all lost.   </p><p>She would head to her new posting, with her eyes open for allies. Knowing who was trustworthy would be the most difficult part. She couldn’t just prance through Gilead throwing around the word ‘mayday’ to anybody… and she’d need to earn their trust. She guessed they weren’t exactly handing out brochures saying: ‘<em>hey, wanna join our secret resistance group?</em>’. But she now knew what to say if she found a friend… A term that came from the French m'aidez, which meant ‘help me’, which it had long been used by the crews of ships and airplanes as a cry for distress: ‘Mayday’.</p><p>Armed with her new-found determination, Renee picked up her red suitcase and walked towards a van that would take her to her new posting. Lydia headed outside too, to see her and Carla off.</p><p>The older aunt seemed to get a bit emotional, like a mother prepping a child for college. “Be a good girl, OfAlan. You have an opportunity to start over. Those horrible sins you confessed? That was all Renee. You’re OfAlan now. OfAlan hasn’t hurt anyone. OfAlan doesn’t have to bear Renee’s guilt”. Lydia gave Carla a look, hoping the message was clear for the other aunt as well.     </p><p>“That’s very true, Aunt Lydia”, Carla pretended to agree, with a smile.</p><p>After everyone said “Under His Eye”, Carla and Renee were finally alone in the back of the van. They had hours of being inside a vehicle ahead of them, out of the public eye. Not even the driver would be able to hear them. They stared at each other with silent hatred for a while. Until Carla spoke, “I don’t care what Aunt Lydia said… you’re still the same woman who made Larry leave me. He’s dead because you took advantage of how weak he was. I’ll never forgive you”</p><p>Renee didn’t bother arguing. She had only one question for Carla. “Did they give you his body?” The ‘aunt’ looked confused by such direct question. “The people you work for… After <em>salvaging</em> Larry, did they give his body to his rightful wife?”. Renee knew the answer, but was only trying to make a point. Carla looked away, saying nothing at all. “Do you even know where it is? What did they do with it?”</p><p>“You know very well how it goes”, Carla said, with her voice shaking slightly. “Waste not, want not”, she sadly reminded Renee of a proverb that was common amongst Gilead’s leaders. “Heretics are used as animal feed. They don't get to rest in peace”.</p><p>Renee sunk even deeper in her seat, urging to cry, but feeling too dry inside. “Did you know he wanted me to sing the song Good Riddance at his funeral?”.</p><p>“Of course I knew!”, Carla snapped. “I was married to him for sixteen years! He took me to countless of Green Day concerts”. Her eyes, as brown as her garments, now sparkled with tears. “It was supposed to be <em>me</em> singing that song, until <em>you</em> came along”.</p><p>“You know what?”, Renee exhaled with frustration. “I used to feel very bad about the pain Larry and I caused you. But now…” She shook her head. Her eyes were full of contempt. “I’m only sorry I didn’t meet Larry sooner. I’m so sorry he and I never had an affair”, she practically spitted out, before a lump formed on her throat. “I’m really sorry I ended up in New York, in an abusive relationship with a criminal. Above all, I’m very-very sorry I ever felt I deserved that”. She barely managed to get those words out without breaking down completely. “But I’m <em>not </em>sorry that Larry divorced you, even though I wasn’t around. I’m <em>not</em> sorry that, even after knowing everything I’d done, he said I was the love of his life and asked me to marry him. And I’m <em>not</em> sorry I married him and had his daughter. I’m just very glad you never got pregnant, or he would have never divorced you”  </p><p>Carla wiped her own tears, forced herself to smile and tried to keep a very cold tone. “I could electrocute you till you pee your seat”, she bragged, showing off the cattle prod. “But I won’t bother. You lost Larry, you’ll never see your daughter again… and you’re about to become Alan Wilson’s obedient bitch. If he gets you pregnant, you’ll have to give up another child. If he doesn’t, you’ll be sent to the colonies. Either way. I already won… OfAlan”.</p><p>Renee felt sick by those words, but knew that neither she nor Carla had won yet. Not as long as they were alive. What did Larry’s mom use to say? Oh, right: ‘<em>Only death is final, and even then, God probably negotiates</em>’</p><p>This was, by far, the lowest time of Renee’s life. But, once upon a time, her year with Vladimir was the lowest point in her life, and she got through it. She made herself strong again after that, somehow. So, what the hell did Carla know? Larry was gone. But Zoey was still alive, somewhere. And, underneath a handmaid’s uniform, Renee Walker-Moss was very much alive and had a resistance group to find.    </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Eastern District of Gilead. Suburban area in New York City</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Inside his private studio, Alan Wilson was sitting behind his desk, reading reports from a fellow commander battling rebels at the front lines. He was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in”</p><p>Jack walked in. He often had to stand outside Alan’s home office, making sure nobody disturbed the Commander in there. “Sir, Mrs. Wilson would like a word”.</p><p>“Send her in”, Alan removed his reading glasses, foreseeing an awkward argument. His wife had barely spoken to him since the former OfAlan’s suicide.     </p><p>Sue Ellen stepped into the room Alan treated like a private sanctuary, trying to ignore the sting to her own ego. Before Gilead, her husband had no room that was forbidden for her. Now she needed his permission to be inside his home office. She told herself it was a small price to pay for a baby. She waited till the door was shut to speak. “Aunt Lydia called. The new handmaid should be here in an hour”</p><p>“Hopefully this one will prove herself fruitful”, Alan said.</p><p>Sue Ellen then noticed a red folder among the pile of papers over Alan’s desk and picked it up. “Is this her file?”. Her husband nodded. She hesitated before opening it. Alan allowed her to read certain things, as long as she was very discreet about it. But he needed to be asked. “May I?”</p><p>“Sure”</p><p>Sue Ellen gave the file a quick look and put it back over the desk, deciding to go straight to the point. “Alan, will you sneak into her bedroom too?” Alan acted shocked and opened his mouth to object, but she was not in the mood. “Don’t bother lying. I know what you did with the former OfAlan”</p><p>“Okay, Suzy, let me explain….”, Alan quickly stood up and put his hands over his wife’s shoulders. “It’s not what you think. I swear to God, I didn’t even like her”</p><p>“Oh, please, don’t bother…”, Sue Ellen moved away from him, feeling exasperated. Her emerald eyes got teary with betrayal. “We had a deal, Alan… Ceremonies-only”</p><p>“I was only trying to make a baby… for us”, he argued.</p><p>She slapped him hard across the face. “That’s what the ceremonies are for, you jackass!”</p><p>“The ceremonies aren’t working!”, Alan yelled back, with a hand over his pained cheek. “The first OfAlan didn’t get pregnant, after two years of just ceremonies. And the second one didn’t pregnant either, after four months here…” He sat down on the couch, looking overwhelmed. “So, a few weeks ago I started visiting her bedroom on different nights, <em>just</em> to try to see if that made any difference”</p><p>She sat next to him, feeling stunned, and disturbed, because it didn’t look like he was lying. He truly believed it. “Alan, you know very well that women can only get pregnant if they are ovulating”</p><p>“Of course I know that!”, Alan snapped, outraged by the insinuation that he didn’t understand simple biology. “But what if they are not actually ovulating on ceremony days? It’s the only explanation!” </p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Here me out”, Alan begged, holding his wife’s hand. “The Marthas and Aunts monitor the handmaid’s cycle… are we supposed to believe them?” Alan moved closer to his wife and lowered his voice: “What if they’re making us have the ceremonies on the wrong days?”</p><p>Sue Ellen felt her husband was truly losing his mind. “Why would they? Alan…”</p><p>“A baby with <em>my</em> blood would make this household more powerful!”, the commander insisted. “Graem and Phillip Bauer wouldn’t like that”</p><p>“You think the aunts, and the Marthas, are in collusion with Graem and Phillip?”, Sue Ellen was accustomed to Alan’s paranoia. For years, he had run an empire from a dark room with computers, hiding well behind shell corporations, associates and lawyers.</p><p>“They could be… for all I know”, Alan scoffed, showing deep anger. “You know Phillip’s still very bitter because that child-bride of his only produced an <em>Un</em>baby. And Graem produced nothing but a gender traitor and is now raising another man’s daughter. They could be sabotaging me, somehow, so I don’t do better than them”</p><p>“Have you at least spoken to Trevor about your… theory?”, Sue Ellen asked him. Trevor O’Niel had been Alan’s only friend in the world since middle school.</p><p>Alan stared at her in disbelief. “Are you crazy? We don’t know who can betray us. And what the hell does he know anyway? OfTrevor is about to pop”. He felt close to tears, but was able to avoid them. His wife pulled him closer to her, embraced him tight, and they kissed. He undid her tight updo, to let her long blonde curls loose. Her curls used to not even reach her shoulders, until short hair became forbidden for women. “So, do you forgive me, goldilocks?”</p><p>She was effectively charmed by him, as usual. “Oh, Alan. My love for you will always be stronger than my frustration with you”. She brushed his lips with hers again. “But you have to be smarter to get the results we want. Remember what the High-Commanders always say?”</p><p>“If you’re unfit to run your household, you’re unfit to run Gilead”, Alan replied, with a nod.</p><p>“The former OfAlan killed herself, the first one tried… if we have problems with this one too, they might blame us”, Sue Ellen reasoned. “We could both end up hanging from some wall”</p><p>“I know”, he agreed. “I promise I’ll be smarter”.</p><p>When Sue Ellen left the studio, Jack pretended he hadn’t kept an ear by the door to overhear the sickening conversation.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>An hour later, Renee stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, with her suitcase. When Sue Ellen Wilson walked into the living room, Renee remembered meeting her for the first-time during Allison’s book release party. Sue Ellen was wearing a gorgeous pink Prada dress, which was dramatically different from the insipid and modest teal-green dresses wives had to wear in Gilead.</p><p>“So, here you are”, the wife said, trying to hide her own nervousness.</p><p>“Yes”</p><p>“You can sit”, the blonde woman gestured towards a very old-fashioned red couch with purple flowers. The handmaid obeyed. “So, this is your third posting?”</p><p>“It is”, Renee confirmed, feeling sheepish.</p><p>“Good”, Sue Ellen approved with a smirk, sitting on a different couch. “That means I won’t have to train you like a dog and you must be highly-motivated to do your job”</p><p>“Oh, yes, Mrs. Wilson. Highly-motivated”. Renee didn’t need to lie. The desperation to avoid the colonies was creeping in her.</p><p>Sue Ellen pleased that Renee not only was desperate to produce a baby, but remembered handmaids were supposed to call the wife ‘<em>Mrs.</em>’, while only the Marthas used ‘<em>madam</em>’.</p><p>“You seem like a smart girl”, the wife admitted. “That’s refreshing. I swear the first one had a lower IQ than a Golden retriever. Didn’t know her place”</p><p>“That’s unfortunate, Mrs. Wilson”, Renee said, just to say something. She instantly stood up when Alan walked in, looking exactly as she remembered him from the one time that they had crossed paths.</p><p>If he remembered her, he didn’t show it right then, greeting her in the standard emotionless way of Gilead: “Hello. Blessed be the fruit”</p><p>“May the Lord open”, Renee responded, obediently.</p><p>“I’m Commander Alan Wilson”, he said, rather awkwardly. He knew he didn’t have to introduce himself. But he had no clue what else to say.</p><p>“Peace be with you. May God make me truly worthy”, the handmaid babbled mechanically what was expected from her. </p><p>“I’m sure He will”, he smirked. “Nice to see you again, OfAlan”. He began exiting the door.</p><p>“Nice to see you again too”, slipped from Renee’s mouth, without giving it much thought, before Alan could reach the doorframe.</p><p>Alan stopped on his tracks; surprised, but pleased. A handmaid wasn’t supposed to say that. Nothing about this was supposed to be ‘nice’ for her. Sue Ellen looked appalled.  </p><p>But nobody was more scared, or puzzled, than Renee herself. ‘<em>Nice to see you again too’</em>? Seriously? Why had she said that? And why had she meant it? ‘<em>You’re OfAlan now. OfAlan hasn’t hurt anyone. OfAlan doesn’t have to bear Renee’s guilt’</em>, she was told. Had those words gotten to her? Was she, on some subconscious level, glad for the chance to star over and leave a ‘sinful’ past behind?</p><p>“A Martha will show you your room”, Sue Ellen said to her, once Alan was gone. “In this household, you don’t have to stay there all day. You can even have your meals in the kitchen”, she added, as if she was doing Renee a massive favor. “But I don’t want to see much of you. Understand?”</p><p>“Yes, Mrs. Wilson”</p><p>“Just remember one thing…”, Sue Ellen approached the other woman slowly, trying to intimidate her with her height. It made her happy to be five inches taller than Renee. “He’s <em>my</em> husband. Till death do us apart. If you remember that and give us a baby, this won’t be a terrible experience for you. If you cause problems, I will make things much worse than they have to be for you”    </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jack watched through the window of his apartment as Renee was brough in to the manor by some aunt, like a red package. Then, he got one of his floorboards open, and retrieved a small satellite cellphone from it. He could use it to call Bill Buchanan, without Gilead’s intelligence services noticing.  </p><p>Bill was in his office, a place he hardly left, and took the call in an instant. “Hello?”</p><p>“It’s me. It worked. <em>Cardinal</em>’s in the nest”, even though the call was supposed to be secured, they tried to assign people code-names, as an extra precaution.      </p><p>“Good”, Bill sighed, relieved. “Did you get the file?”</p><p>“Yes, I did… I’m impressed”. He had gotten an encrypted file with Renee’s FBI file on his secret phone that morning. He already had all the information memorized.  </p><p>“Yes, but be cautious…”, Bill advised, knowing Jack would do whatever Jack wanted anyway. “You can’t be sure she’s to be trusted now. You have no idea what she’s been through in the last thirty months. You don’t know how it affected her”.</p><p>“I understand”, Jack assured him. “Now, The Phantom is getting impatient about not getting the results he expected. He believes his efforts are being sabotaged. Do you know anything about that?”      </p><p>“No… It may be just The Phantom losing his mind. Our fertility experts believe most commanders contacted a virus that caused male sterility”.</p><p>Jack was horrified thinking about the implications for Renee. “This… this is her third posting…”</p><p>“That’s a problem for the future”, Bill was alarmed to notice that Jack seemed overly concerned about the woman’s wellbeing. Their mission had to be a priority. He expected Jack Bauer, of all people, to see that and remain detached.  </p><p>“I have to go”, Jack whispered.</p><p>After ending the call, he spent too long studying Renee’s FBI file and staring at her photo. Even before Gilead, she had suffered enough for a lifetime during an undercover mission. The FBI file made no mention of a sexual assault or a miscarriage, but Jack knew about it because the Gilead regime had stolen her private medical records and included such information in her Handmaid file.</p><p>He hid his phone under the floorboards again, trying not to think about her file for a while. He wanted to kick himself in the nuts. Before even knowing her in person, he was feeling certain admiration and protectiveness towards her. He was supposed to feel nothing at all and just do his job, as usual. It was the only way he knew to survive.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Late at night, Renee was supposed to be sleeping, but remained wide awake in her bed. She was unable to settle down. She couldn’t stop obsessing over her own ‘<em>Nice to see you again too</em>’ comment. It worried her to lose control of her own mind. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe she was over-worrying, but she couldn’t help it. She had to take action. She had to do something, something minor, just to prove herself that they didn’t own what happened inside her own head.</p><p>She got up and went downstairs, to explore the house a little. Both receptions rooms, and the dining room, were full of little tacky ornaments. Perhaps she could steal one of those. Something small enough to hide, insignificant, so that it wouldn’t be missed. Something that wouldn’t get her in too much trouble if she got caught. She spotted a cabinet, by the dining room table, and opened the drawers.</p><p>There were no knives there, of course. Those were kept under lock and key. But she saw forks, spoons, and little fish forks. There were also some fancy linen napkins, with red roses embraided. Such napkins reminded her of the fancy dinners her mom used to cook to welcome her dad back from deployment. For normal dinners, regular paper napkins did the trick. But extravagant linen napkins on the table usually meant they were celebrating Major Dennis Walker’s safe return.</p><p>Believing it was the perfect loot, she hid a napkin under the sleeves of her nightgown. When she turned around, there was a man standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. He was a blond, middle-aged man, holding a cup of tea. She had no idea who he was. He was wearing bland, generic, long-sleeved pyjamas. No helpful uniform to indicate his position. Perhaps a relative visiting? Whoever he was, he had seen her stealing a napkin and could report her to The Eyes, Gilead’s secret police. Maybe he himself was an Eye. She felt terrified. She didn’t know the punishment for a handmaid who wandered outside her bedroom at night and stole a napkin, but she surely didn’t want to find out. ‘<em>You don’t need hands, feet or eyes to serve your purpose’</em>, Lydia had said more than once.</p><p>Jack was just as surprised to see her. He hadn’t expected it. He was only there because he couldn’t sleep and he had run out of milk for his tea. But there he saw her… wearing a white Victorian gown and her long auburn hair loose, instead of tied and hidden under a coif or bonnet.</p><p>“You must be OfAlan”, Jack said, as if he hadn’t spent the last few hours reading her file and looking at her pictures. She nodded, visibly petrified. He could understand why. She thought she was about to lose a hand, or worse, for getting caught stealing. “I’m the Commander’s driver. I live over the garage, but I came down to get some milk for my tea”</p><p>“I’m sorry”, she babbled, taking the napkin from her sleeve. “I’ll put it back. You don’t have to tell anyone. I’m so sorry”</p><p>“It’s okay. Keep it. I won’t tell”, Jack whispered, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m not supposed to be drinking their milk”. He put a finger over his lips. “But I never saw you, if you never saw me”  </p><p>“Okay”, she agreed, with lot of scepticism. She didn’t know what to think about this man before her.</p><p>“My name is Jack, by the way”</p><p>If they were normal people, having a regular conversation, in normal America, she would either tell him her real name, or ask for his last name. But she was too scared to do that in their present circumstances. She was already getting away with wandering around the house at night, stealing a napkin and talking to a male. She couldn’t push her luck by being too out of line.</p><p>He guessed she was, probably, wondering about his last name. Normal curiosity. But he didn’t want her to know, just yet. He didn’t want to spook her by revealing he was related to two of Gilead’s Founding Fathers. But he didn’t want to lie to her, either.</p><p>“Just Jack… like Cher or Madonna”, he added, hoping she’d find it funny and leave it like that.</p><p>“Or OfAlan”, she was quick to point out. “No last name either”.</p><p>“At least we have something in common”, he replied with a smirk, without giving it a lot of thought.  </p><p>Her eyebrows raised. It felt so wrong, in her circumstances, to hear any male claiming to have something in common with her. But she let it slide. She found Jack strange, but was not in position to argue.</p><p>“Goodnight, just-Jack”, she said, and headed back to her bedroom.</p><p>Jack watched her leave with the tiniest smirk on his face. It boded him well that she had dared to steal a napkin. There was a tiny hint of rebellion left in her, after all. He failed to understand, though, why she had put herself at risk over a dumb napkin. It seemed clumsy and reckless. But, maybe, the point was just doing something, anything, wrong, only to prove herself that she still could?</p><p>It felt like a good start.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading this far! I hope you're enjoying, and that you liked the flashbacks. Perhaps I'm having too much fun playing with the past. lol Please, let me know what your think... your opinion means a lot to me. :) Thanks</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Give me children…</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>September 2011: After a business project doesn't go quite as they expected, Sue Ellen and Alan Wilson make a decision about their future that would change the destiny of a nation. <br/>April-May 2016:  Renee learns the ropes of her new household and how to navigate her new district, which turns out to be a familiar place... She faces unexpected reunions with old friends, new people reaching out to her in unexpected ways, and her first ceremony as OfAlan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope the flashback sheds more light on how 24's canon transitioned into The Handmaid's Tale universe, in addition to showing how I imagine 24's Day 5 from Alan Wilson's perspective.    <br/>The song used in this chapter is, obviously, 'Everybody wants to rule the world'... I don't own it, or profit from it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter Six:</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Give me children…</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>September 13th 2011</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>St. Tropez, Cote d'Azur, France</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>Welcome to your life</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There's no turning back</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last song in her workout playlist came through her earphones, as she jogged around the beach. The first light of the morning reverberated beautifully over the Mediterranean Sea. She loved how peaceful it was, this early in the day, with the crowds of summer tourists gone.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>Even while we sleep, we will find you acting on your best behaviour</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Turn your back on mother nature</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Everybody wants to rule the world</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>A young boy, also working out, stopped to stare with fascination at her big breasts bouncing up and down as she came within his eyeshot.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen kept running, feeling very pleased with herself. She was devoted to her husband, but enjoyed getting attention from younger men… she needed such ego boost more than ever, with her 53rd birthday right around the corner. Of course, she looked over ten years younger. A lot of very expensive cosmetics treatments had made sure of that.    </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>It's my own design</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It's my own remorse</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Nothing ever lasts forever</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Everybody wants to rule the world</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>She stopped the song, as she walked inside a café by the beach. She had been a regular customer of that café for a very long time. So, it wasn’t surprising when a young waiter recognised her.</p>
<p>“Bonjour, Ms. Jones”, he greeted her with a charming smile, as she approached the counter. </p>
<p>“Bonjour, Gaspard”. There was the tiny hint of flirtation in her smile. “I’d like a peach and orange smoothie, a mocha latte, and a bagel with cream cheese, honey and bananas. To go, <em>s'il te plait</em>”  </p>
<p>Once she got the order, and stepped outside the cafe, Sue Ellen put her earphones back on.    </p>
<p>
  <em>There's a room where the light won't find you</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>When they do I'll be right behind you</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So glad we've almost made it, So sad they had to fade it</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Everybody wants to rule the world</em>
</p>
<p>She only needed to walk for a few minutes before reaching the private villa her husband bought in the 90’s, to use whenever they needed a vacation. The front gates opened once her right hand was over a sensor and a tiny camera recognised her features, just like the door to the main lobby.</p>
<p>She left the bags from the café over the dinning room table, and searched for her husband.</p>
<p>The television set in the living room was on. Two French political commentators were on the giant TV screen, discussing the latest international events. The whole world was shocked by the assassination of David Palmer, merely two days before, and the even more shocking arrest of Charles Logan. Images of the President of the United States being arrested, while giving a eulogy for a former President, had travelled around the world in a matter of minutes. But nobody knew what to make of them. Nobody grasped the whole picture… not even those who believed they did.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen let out a massive sight of relief, as she turned the TV off. She then looked at the couch, where Alan was snoring softly… he had drifted off with his reading glasses still on, and his computer open over his lap. It didn’t surprise her in the least. He had spent the past three days awake, struggling to clean up a big business mess. These were no ordinary vacations for Alan, or for her.</p>
<p>The plan had seemed so simple, at first: to give an anti-Russian terrorist group twenty secret canisters of Sentox nerve gas, pretending to support their cause, but dispersing the gas prematurely, killing them right before they could attack Moscow. That way, a stronger U.S. military presence in that region would not be questioned. Alan, along all his partners, would make a big fortune securing oil holdings. But David Palmer became suspicious, and everything went downhill from there.  </p>
<p>She and Alan had arrived to their villa in St. Tropez right after learning about Palmer snooping into their business. They hoped to stay as far away as possible from any blowback, working on putting that fire off, from a safe distance. It appeared they had succeeded. Their involvement remained unknown.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen let out a soft chuckle watching her husband snooze on the sofa. His glasses were slightly crooked, he had the tiniest hint of drool on the corner of his lips, and was wearing a dorky T-shirt with a chess board with the words: ‘<em>Always protect your Queen’</em>. She owned a matching one saying: ‘<em>Always protect your King’</em>. She had bought them for their anniversary, to honour their favourite hobby.</p>
<p>She took a few seconds to marvel at the fact that, in the entire world, only a handful of people knew how powerful that geeky man truly was… all the things he got done, just by giving an order.</p>
<p>Then Alan opened his eyes and looked up, smiling at the sight of his adoring wife towering next to him, wearing a revealing tight magenta top and shorts. “You’re a sight for sore eyes”</p>
<p>“You must need new glasses”, she chuckled, with false modesty, and kissed the top of his head.</p>
<p>“I need more coffee”, he corrected her, placing his laptop and reading glasses over the coffee table.</p>
<p>“I brought you breakfast”</p>
<p>“You’re the best, goldilocks”. He stood up, stretching his back, and then kept an arm around her as they headed towards the living room. “I guess I dozed off after the last conference with the group”</p>
<p>“What’s the latest update?”. Sue Ellen opened the bag from the cafeteria, setting her smoothie and Alan’s breakfast over the dining room table.  </p>
<p>He wearily flopped into a chair, and grabbed the mocha latte. “We sent an intermediary to talk to Logan, discretely. The group has reached an understanding with him”</p>
<p>Sceptical, Sue Ellen raised an eyebrow. “An understanding?”</p>
<p>“He’ll plead guilty to obstruction of justice, and pin all of it on Walt Cummings, Christopher Henderson and James Nathanson”, he sounded confident. Those men had already gotten caught and killed, making them the perfect scapegoats. He smirked, remembering the words of one of his partners. “As Graem Bauer said: we can now sit back, and watch the dead bury the dead”</p>
<p>But Sue Ellen was not amused, nor did she share her husband’s confidence. “And you can be sure Logan will not expose the group?”</p>
<p>“Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t even know I exist”, he insisted, with an arrogant smirk.  </p>
<p>“What he knows is enough to cause trouble”, his wife pointed out. She began fearing that, one day, his husband’s overconfidence would doom them.  </p>
<p>“I’m telling you, Suzy… Logan will keep quiet”, Alan insisted with a firmer tone and an angry stare. He didn’t appreciate her questioning him. “He was willing to end his own life, to avoid exposing us… according to Graem”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that the same Graem who swore that framing his brother for Palmer’s death would be very easy?”</p>
<p>Alan didn’t answer at first. Focusing on eating his breakfast instead. He couldn’t contradict what she was saying. Trusting Graem Bauer had been a colossal mistake. But he detested admitting to making a mistake. “You read Jack Bauer’s file, Sue”, he insisted, shaking his head stubbornly. “He went through a real hell for protecting Palmer, or for following Palmer’s orders. Nobody could have predicted that, after all that, he would still come out from hiding to solve Palmer’s murder. Nobody”</p>
<p>“Graem could have”, Sue Ellen argued, casually taking a sip of the smoothie. She wasn’t trying to fight with her husband. But Alan’s biggest flaw had always been his inability to understand the complexity of the human soul. She wished he would work on that. “All along he was using Project Sentox to get back at his brother”</p>
<p>“And what do you want me to do now?”, Alan snapped, putting the remains of the bagel aside, his frustration suddenly kindled against his wife. He took a deep breath, trying not to take it out on her. He knew she was his biggest ally and was only trying to help. “Mistakes were made… but it’s over now”</p>
<p>“Charles Logan is still a loose end. I don’t like it, Alan”, she admitted. Unknown best to her husband, a much bigger endeavour was already set in her mind. But there was no room in it for Charles Logan. They would have no use for a disgraced former president, with a lunatic for a wife. Him being alive would only complicate everything. “He’s a narcissistic, self-serving, weak, moron… he’ll crack”</p>
<p>Even though Alan was unaware of his wife’s plans, he too despised the necessity of keeping Logan alive.  But it <em>was</em> a necessity. “Right now, people believe everyone involved in Palmer’s death is either dead, or in prison… but that would change, if anything happened to Logan”</p>
<p>“Not necessarily”, Sue Ellen said. “He lost everything… his own wife of thirty years colluded to have him arrested and is suing him for divorce already. If we wait for the perfect time, let’s say, the day the divorce becomes final… most people won’t have a hard time believing he was too heartbroken, ashamed, and chose to end everything”</p>
<p>“I’ll bring it to the group”, Alan smirked, holding his wife hand. Just when he was starting to forget why he needed Sue Ellen so badly, why she was his perfect match, she found ways to remind him.</p>
<p>“Okay”, she smiled at him. His lips caressed her knuckles. He then stood up behind her, and began kissing her long neck, with his hands fondling her breasts. She saw the perfect opportunity to bring up her own plans. Now that Alan seemed in the perfect mood to fulfil her wishes.</p>
<p>She got up from the chair, moving away from him with a sigh of despair. She headed to the large couch in the sitting room, and flopped in it, with her face buried in her hands.</p>
<p>Alarmed, Alan rushed to sit next to her, putting an arm around her. “What’s the matter, goldilocks?”</p>
<p>“Alan”, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you ever wonder what’s the point of all this?”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat awkwardly, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading. It was a very painful topic, for both of them. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“We spent thirty years building an empire… an empire <em>without any heir</em>”, she pointed out, as real tears fell from her emerald eyes. “Why do we even bother? Who are we doing everything for?”</p>
<p>He leaned back, in disbelief, forcing her to look at him in the eye. “We’re doing it for us… you and me”</p>
<p>“And after we’re gone? We have nobody to receive our legacy, everything we have built”</p>
<p>Alan brusquely moved away from his wife, feeling attacked. “Don’t act like this is something I decided”. He began pacing around the living room. “You know I wanted a baby, I really did… We tried everything, but it was impossible. We couldn’t make a baby with my own genes… and anything else is <em>out of the question</em>”. He angrily knocked down a crystal bowl with fresh oranges from the coffee table, believing his wife wanted to resort to ‘sperm and eggs donors’, or adoption, as doctors had suggested. The mere idea infuriated him. “I won’t raise another man’s child!”</p>
<p>“Calm down, Alan”, Sue Ellen stood up, with just the right posture to make herself two inches taller than her husband. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. “There’s one thing left for us to try, to have a baby… a baby with <em>your</em> genes, <em>your </em>blood”</p>
<p>Alan stared at her with obvious confusion. “But… that’s impossible”</p>
<p>“It’s not impossible to God”, she said softly, not seeming entirely convinced, but desperate for hope.    </p>
<p>Alan took two steps back, looking slightly frightened. He realized what was happening. Their only close friends, Trevor and Lynnette O’Niel, had been members of ‘The Sons of Jacob’ for ages. Alan didn’t share their radical views, but made an effort to be tolerant only because Trevor had been his only friend since middle school. And who cared about some insane belief system anyway? Not like The Sons of Jacob could do much. Right? But now it seemed Sue Ellen wanted to join them. He found that unsettling.</p>
<p>“You let Trevor and Lynnette get to you”, he accused her.</p>
<p>“I met with one of their leaders, a few months ago”, she admitted softly. “When Lynnie and I went to Allison Taylor’s book party… a leader of The Sons of Jacob, George Winslow, was there”</p>
<p>Alan widened his eyes in shock and approached his wife slowly, as if he wished to strangle her. “Are you telling me that you were seen <em>in public</em> with a leader of that cult? Damn it, Sue Ellen!”</p>
<p>“We were just regular people at a party, Alan! We were hiding in plain sight! That’s what they do!”, she yelled back, frustrated that her husband didn’t trust her intelligence. She then lowered her voice. No point in fighting about something that was in the past. They needed to discuss their future. “The important thing is that Winslow wants to meet you in person. The Sons of Jacob really need you”</p>
<p>“<em>Need</em> me?”, Alan was confused again.</p>
<p>“They’re not just talk, honey… they have a plan”, she revealed with a hopeful smile. “a plan so couples like us can have their own children”. Alan tilted his head to a side intrigued, expecting to hear more. “I don’t know the details… but they can’t move forward without you”. She got closer to him, holding his hand. “You may as well just talk to the guy. I think what he has to say will really interest you”</p>
<p>He stared into his wife’s eyes, trying to figure out if she was truly serious. She didn’t seem like herself. “Are you…? Are you religious now?”. He struggled to comprehend what was happening to his wife, who had never been interested in any church. She believed in science, proven facts. So did him. The Sons of Jacob believed that God had made people barren, to teach the world a lesson, but God would somehow cure infertility, if people started living by His world. He looked at her like she had gone insane. “You really believe we can make a baby, by becoming religious?”</p>
<p>“I believe there are women out there getting pregnant”, she clarified. She didn’t believe a magical being, up in the sky, would magically cure infertility. But the existence of fertile women was a hard fact. And it was also a fact that doctors could be wrong, sometimes. Her eyes suddenly became teary again. “And I believe nobody deserves a baby more than us… I believe it’s not fair that we can’t have children. And they say there is a way to fix that injustice… please, Alan… Just hear him out”</p>
<p>She collapsed in her husband’s arms, breaking down in uncontrollable sobs.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <strong>April 18th, 2016</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Eastern District of Gilead. Suburban area in New York City</strong>
</p>
<p>A knock on her bedroom door was enough to wake Renee up. The linen napkin stolen the night before remained clutched in her hands. But she was quick to hide it under the sheets.</p>
<p>“Blessed day, OfAlan”, Bonnie greeted her, in an amazingly cheerful mood, for somebody who’d been doing domestic chores since 4.30 AM. She left a freshly clean red dress for the handmaid over a chair.</p>
<p>“Blessed day”, Renee replied. She was surprisingly moved by the fact that Bonnie had knocked before walking in. Such a tiny sliver of privacy, of respect…</p>
<p>“It’s time to get ready for breakfast”, Bonnie moved the insipid beige curtains blocking the window, to allow the first light of a new morning inside the handmaid’s room. “Mrs. Wilson said you’re allowed to eat in the kitchen, unlike…” She trailed off awkwardly, realizing she was not supposed to talk about the former <em>OfAlan</em>. “other handmaids… if you choose to”.</p>
<p>“That’d be lovely”, Renee couldn’t help the tiniest smile. To choose where to have a meal… what an old forgotten luxury. Albeit, her choice was between a small spartan bedroom and a kitchen. But, still… in the last 30 months she had found herself appreciating even the smallest, silliest, things.</p>
<p>She got up, to look through the window. She saw a large back yard, surrounded by a grey solid fence, topped with barbed wire. The garden had plenty of bushes and a big greenhouse. She noticed an area had greener, fresher-looking grass. She guessed an outdoor pool had been there, once upon a time, before such thing became forbidden… even for Commanders and their wives. Nobody got to swim outdoors. Too much exposed skin, too much promiscuity. She couldn’t avoid thinking about herself and Larry making love inside the pool in their own back yard… during carefree and warm summer nights. She couldn’t avoid wondering… Had <em>that</em> pool also been filled with soil for strangers to walk on, pretending it had never existed? Probably.</p>
<p>She stepped into the adjoining private bathroom and washed her face with cold water, as a way to ground herself. She needed to stop thinking about the past, to start a new day. She had to learn how to successfully navigate her new household, her new district… more importantly, she had to learn who could be trusted. Who inside Gilead was a true American patriot in disguise?                          </p>
<p>Once dressed, Renee walked into the kitchen, where Bonnie was making scrambled eggs.</p>
<p>A different woman in a pale-green <em>Martha</em> uniform, a younger woman with dark-brown skin, was taking freshly made bread from the oven. All <em>Marthas</em> were expected to make bread from the scratch. The Sons of Jacob had fought tooth and nail for such return to traditional values. The bread available in stores was meant for lesser homes, not for a mighty household like Wilson’s.     </p>
<p>“Right in time”, Bonnie noted cheerfully, as she saw the handmaid. “Rita, here’s the new OfAlan”</p>
<p>Rita barely gave the woman in red a quick glance and mumbled: “Blessed be the fruit”.</p>
<p>“May the Lord open”, Renee replied, taking a random seat by the table. She wondered if Rita and Bonnie valued being addressed by their first names. Renee had never appreciated such thing before. But she tried not to beat herself up for that. How could she possibly know that using her real name would become forbidden and everyone would call her by the name of her owner?</p>
<p>Then Jack walked in, saying ‘blessed morning’, and headed for a cup of coffee.</p>
<p>Renee’s entire body tensed. Would that man really keep quiet about the stolen linen napkin, and her wandering around the house at night? He hadn’t reported her so far… why? She didn’t buy his ‘<em>I never saw you, if you never saw me’</em>. Nobody would believe her anyway. He had nothing to fear from her.</p>
<p>Bonnie handed him a plate with bacon, bread and eggs. “Blessed morning, Jack. The new OfAlan is here”</p>
<p>He sat across from her, acting as if he hadn’t seen her before. “Nice to meet you. Blessed be the fruit”.</p>
<p>“May the Lord open”, Renee struggled to keep her eyes on the table. She wasn’t supposed to even look directly at a male. But she was too intrigued by him, despite the circumstances. Under the brightness of the morning, Renee noticed he was quite a handsome man. But that didn’t mean she could trust him… he was likely just another male trying to take advantage of her. After 30 months inside Gilead, she figured he expected some sexual favor in return for his silence. He just hadn’t asked… yet.      </p>
<p>“Don’t forget to bring milk from the market today, OfAlan”, Rita said sounding weary, sitting down to eat her own breakfast. “Somehow, we’ve run out”</p>
<p>“Okay”, Renee nodded. Then she and Jack locked eyes for an instant, knowingly. His green eyes looked even paler than they had the night before. ‘<em>What are you really after, Jack?</em>’, she silently wondered.  </p>
<p>“We also need eggs, and make sure they are <em>fresh</em>”, Rita ordered, with a little smug attitude. “Let them know who it’s for and they won’t mess around”.</p>
<p>“Milk and fresh eggs. Got it”, Renee faked a smile. </p>
<p>Under the table, Jack kept touching the tip of her shoes with his, for reasons Renee couldn’t comprehend. It seemed like some sort of weird flirtation. And his piercing green eyes remained dangerously on her as they ate. She couldn’t stop staring back at him either.   </p>
<p>When he reached out his hand to get the salt, Renee noticed there was no ring on his finger. He had no wife from before the coup, nor had he been assigned one by Gilead… yet. She wondered if he just felt lonely without a wife. Way too lonely, it seemed. That explained the flirting, the stares. Maybe he <em>was</em> a predictable horny male who expected sexual gratification for his help, after all. ‘<em>How would a regular single man like him get laid in Gilead, anyway</em>?’, she wondered. The easiest way would be a secret forbidden fling with a <em>Martha</em> in his own household. Bonnie and Rita were, realistically, the only females Jack could interact with, without raising too many eyebrows. Or, if Jack was very brave and stupid, there was always Mrs. Wilson. A wife having an affair with the driver was not unheard of. Starting an affair with the handmaid would be even braver… but a hundredth times stupider.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After breakfast, it was time for Renee’s daily walk. She’d been looking forward to it. It was her one chance to explore the area and try to figure out where she was. Aunt Lydia had called it ‘<em>The</em> <em>Eastern District’</em>. From the scraps of information Renee had gotten in the past thirty months, she speculated Gilead’s ‘Eastern District’ might include New York and Pennsylvania.</p>
<p>“OfAlan, come in here”, Mrs. Wilson called out from a room adjoining to the front lobby.</p>
<p>With her head tilted slightly down, Renee stepped into the lavish dining room, where Sue Ellen was having breakfast with four other women wearing teal-green dresses of different tones.</p>
<p>“Yes, Mrs. Wilson?” Renee began feeling very uncomfortable. A woman with shiny black hair and big blue eyes, stared at her looking troubled, haunted. Renee had no idea why. </p>
<p>“Go to the outdoor market and check if they have fresh oranges”, Sue Ellen ordered.</p>
<p>“Good luck with that”, scoffed a woman with brown greying hair in her mid-sixties. “Those have been very hard to come by”</p>
<p>“But Alan said we got plenty of oranges from Florida yesterday”, Sue Ellen explained to her friends, with a gloating smirk. She enjoyed being the first one in her social circle to be informed. “Since the war there is going so well”.</p>
<p>Rather anxiously, Renee checked all the little yellow papers she had gotten from Bonnie. Each paper was a token representing the product she was allowed to get. But none of them had the drawing of an orange. “I.. I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilson. I’m afraid I don’t have a token for oranges”  </p>
<p>“Then tell them it’s for <em>Alan Wilson </em>and that they’ll get their tokens later”, Sue Ellen hissed, as if saying something that should have been obvious for the Handmaid.</p>
<p>“I will, Mrs. Wilson”, Renee nodded.</p>
<p>“Under His Eye”, Sue Ellen said, with a dismissive wave, as if shooing an annoying bird.</p>
<p>Renee left the dining room, but couldn’t help to stay behind the closed door, to try to overhear a little of what the other women were saying. Her curiosity being too strong.</p>
<p>“You have a new OfAlan already? They surely didn’t waste any time”</p>
<p>“Well, no much time to waste with this one”, Sue Ellen complained. “She’s 34 years old already”</p>
<p>“OfTrevor is 32 and she’ll have my baby soon”, Lynnette O’Neil reminded her, trying to be reassuring, but coming off as boasting. “34 can’t be too different. Not that age matters to the Lord, anyway”</p>
<p>“Amen”, the brown-haired wide agreed in an instant.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful miracle. They sent you a pretty one”, another wife sighed, with a hint of jealousy. “Did you see my handmaid?”, she scoffed. “I know I shouldn’t question God’s will, but why would He want a baby with a face like <em>hers</em>?”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on, Daphne… I don’t think <em>OfJonas</em> looks so bad”, Lynnette argued, she then lowered her voice slightly. “At least her skin is whiter than OfTrevor’s”</p>
<p><em>‘It’s a fantastic thing, girls’</em>, Aunt Lydia had repeated constantly at The Red Center. ‘<em>You don’t need to be pretty, or clever, or rich, or wear nice clothes. You don’t have to work so hard to impress people. You’ll only be judged by your ability to give your Commander and his wife a baby</em>’.</p>
<p>Apparently the wives hadn’t gotten <em>that </em>memo.</p>
<p>Not wishing to hear their vicious, and racist, gossip any more, Renee headed towards the front door. She was startled to notice Jack standing there.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t prying”, she was quick to lie, still nervous around him. “I was just…”</p>
<p>“It’s okay”, Jack assured her, with a careless shrug. “Mrs. Wilson invited her friends over for breakfast?”.</p>
<p>Renee just nodded, and picked up large white bonnet handmaids wore in public. It was kept by the front door, on an auxiliary table.</p>
<p>“She does that a lot”, Jack commented, wishing to keep talking to her. “Let me guess… Mrs. Hodges was bashing OfJonas’s looks already?”. Renee didn’t speak, but nodded again. Jack rushed to open the front door for her, and whispered, as if revealing a big secret. “I don’t know how OfJonas looks like, but I don’t think any wife in that room should be throwing the first stone” </p>
<p>She supressed a chuckle, “I have to go”</p>
<p>“Shopping?”, Jack asked clumsily, just to talk to her for a little bit longer.</p>
<p>‘<em>No, Jack. I’m going out to see the new Meryl Streep movie and then to IHOP for lunch’,</em> Renee thought sarcastically, hardly managing not to roll her eyes. Jack’s attempts to talk to her, like she was a regular woman were sort of sweet, but lame.</p>
<p>“Yes, shopping”, she answered, with a dry tone. “Mrs. Wilson wants oranges from the outdoor market”</p>
<p>“They have nice fruit there. You should try trading the strawberries tokens for orange tokens, since Mrs. Wilson is allergic to strawberries anyway”</p>
<p>“Okay”</p>
<p>“But, whatever you do, stay away from the peaches”, he lifted a finger, as if it was a serious warning. </p>
<p>“Is Mrs. Wilson allergic to peaches?” </p>
<p>“Nah. But I really hate them”, Jack admitted, with a forbidden wink.</p>
<p>A tiny smile appeared on Renee’s lips. For a split second, he was simply a good-looking older man, her biggest weakness. But she then remembered the dire reality of Gilead. He was her captor’s driver. She couldn’t lower her guard just because he looked good and his eyes resembled her father’s.        </p>
<p>She muttered: “Peace be with you”, before leaving the house in a rush.</p>
<p>Renee crossed the front garden, seeing another handmaid waiting by the main gate. It had to be her new shopping partner. “Blessed be the fruit”, she greeted, unable to see the other woman’s face, due the damn bonnet.</p>
<p>“May the Lord open”, Emily mumbled awkwardly, while turning around to face her.</p>
<p>Renee was stunned to recognise Emily from the training days. She was delighted to see a familiar friendly face. For nearly two months, at the lowest point of their lives, they had bonded like sisters. But could she trust Emily now? How could she trust anyone? Handmaids were given a shopping partner for a reason. It wasn’t for companionship or friendship. They were meant to be each other’s spies, report anything suspicious. What if Emily was no longer the same person who had helped her so many moons before? What if she had been broken by the system and was one of <em>them </em>now?</p>
<p>Emily was wondering exactly the same thing about her new shopping partner. She had vouched for Renee, gotten Mayday and the Marthas’ network to orchestrate her transfer. But she had agreed with Jack that it was safer to tread lightly around her, at first. Emily knew that the indoctrination at the Red Centre, and life as a handmaid, could break a person’s spirit, change it.</p>
<p>“I’m surprised to see you after all this time, eh…”, Renee muttered clumsily, looking at the young guardian by the gate. She couldn’t use Emily’s real name, but didn’t know which name was allowed.  </p>
<p>“It’s OfGraem now. I’m posted with Commander Graem Bauer”, Emily explained, as they walked away from the manor. “I take it you’re the new OfAlan”</p>
<p>“That’s right”, Renee confirmed, acting like the name <em>OfAlan</em> didn’t bother her at all. “Mrs. Wilson wants me to go to the outdoor market”</p>
<p>“What a lovely idea”, Emily agreed. “It’s very nice”</p>
<p>They kept walking silently for a while, passing by several houses. Neither of them knew what to say. They had millions of questions for each other. Renee was growing curious about what had happened to the former OfAlan. Besides, she still hadn’t figured out where they were. So far, the area looked like any other suburban area surrounding any big city. But she couldn’t talk about anything interesting before knowing, for sure, that Emily could still be trusted. Yet, the silence turned unbearable.</p>
<p>“We’ve been sent good weather”, Renee then commented, feeling a bit of sweat under her bonnet.</p>
<p>Emily gave the most typical acceptable answer within Gilead. “Which I receive with joy”</p>
<p>They passed by a few shops, until they arrived to a lovely park where the outdoor market had been set. If it wasn’t for the guardians patrolling the place while holding gigantic gun machines, and everyone dressed in Gilead uniforms, it would look like the perfect warm autumn morning.       </p>
<p>On one side of the park, there was a small playground where a bunch of children were giggling and running around, being carefully watched by their respective ‘Marthas’. Renee couldn’t help to stare at three little girls who seemed to be about Zoey’s age. But they couldn’t be Zoey. None of them had her daughter’s reddish hair or blue eyes.</p>
<p>With sorrow in her eyes, Emily gently led Renee away from the children, towards an area with wooden stalls where fresh fruit and vegetables where being sold. Different classes of women were shopping… fellow handmaids, ‘Marthas’ and some ‘Econo-wives’, women married to men of low status.     </p>
<p>As they walked around the stalls, Renee’s heart sunk to her feet when she spotted lots of big fresh oranges. It meant Sue Ellen was right… Gilead was crushing the American militia in Florida.</p>
<p>“The war in Florida must be going well”, Renee feigned a small smile, even though she wanted to cry.</p>
<p>“By His hand”, Emily tried to sound enthusiastic. “And we also smoked out those Baptists rebels who had a stronghold in the blue hills”</p>
<p>“Praised be”. Right then, Renee would have given anything for the ability to read minds. Was Emily actually happy about the open resistance getting creamed?</p>
<p>She managed to get a few oranges, without a token. The man selling the fruit seemed thrilled to make an exception for Commander Alan Wilson’s handmaid.</p>
<p>“Your commander is a very important man”, Emily whispered the obvious, hoping Renee would grasp the importance of having people close to Wilson fighting for the right side, the American side.</p>
<p>Then everyone in the park turned around to stare at two handmaids just arriving. Those handmaids stood out because one of them was visibly pregnant. They were being followed by a guardian. Pregnant handmaids always went out in public with their own guardian. You never knew when they could be attacked by another woman out of deep jealousy.</p>
<p><em>‘Well, I’ll be dammed’</em>, Renee thought in disbelief, as she got a better view of the pregnant handmaid’s brownish features. It was Penny Delgado, amazingly still alive and pregnant. Renee recalled sweet-natured Penny snapping during her first night of handmaid training… The image of Penny singing, believing to be part of some reality show, had haunted Renee for the last 30 months. Such was Renee’s biggest fear, losing control of her own mind. Not that she blamed Penny at all… who wouldn’t go bat-shit crazy after having two fingers and an ear chopped off?   </p>
<p>“She’s OfTrevor now”, Emily whispered, so Renee wouldn’t use Penny’s real name in public. “She was placed with Commander O’Niel six months ago, and was blessed with a child right away. How lucky!”.   </p>
<p>“A very lucky girl”, Renee agreed, noticing the fruit vendor and two Econo-wives within the earshot. It was the wrong place to talk freely. But it terrified her to recognize a wave of actual jealousy running thorough her own veins. Why would she envy Penny’s glow? Was she only envying Penny safety from the colonies? Or did she <em>want</em> to have Wilson’s baby, only to give it up? Had she fallen for Gilead’s brainwashing techniques?     </p>
<p>It seemed Penny had fallen for it… completely. The pregnant handmaid was giggling like a school girl, and cradling her belly, enjoying every second of the attention. She got even happier when she recognised Renee. Penny blissfully walked towards her. “Oh, hi…”, she trailed off, noticing Emily’s warning stare, and greeted her old friends in the standard Gilead way instead. “Under His Eye”.</p>
<p>“Under His Eye”, Renee replied. “Congratulations on your miracle” </p>
<p>“Thank you”, Penny grinned, with the remaining of her hand on her belly. “So, where are you posted?”</p>
<p>“Commander Alan Wilson”, she replied softly, unable to take her eyes off Penny’s baby bump. Her mind was being flooded by memories of her own pregnancy, like water pouring from a dam with an open gate. But she swiftly forced her own mind back to the present conversation.   </p>
<p>“That was certainly fast”, Penny’s walking partner commented, out of genuine surprise. Even after thirty months of life in Gilead, it still shocked her to see the late ‘<em>OfAlan’</em> being replaced in a matter of days.</p>
<p>“Because Wilson is very important”, Penny appeared genuinely excited for Renee, as if being owned by someone with so much prestige was a great thing. “I bet he has the most amazing house”</p>
<p>“He does. I’m very blessed”, Renee replied, unable to vocalize her real thoughts: <em>‘Sure, Penny! I’d give my room four stars in Airbnb: small room in charming Victorian mansion. Luminous, with private bathroom and a pretty view of the back garden. All meals and two maids included! One downside: hosts are sociopathic war-criminals… only ritualised rape accepted as payment’.        </em></p>
<p>“Wilson's really high up. They mentioned him in today’s newspaper”, Penny’s walking partner babbled, without thinking. She got very alarmed stares from the other three handmaids. Her pale-brown face became much paler. Fearing the worst, she rushed to say: “I didn’t read it. I promise. Our guardian was reading it. And I couldn’t help seeing a photo of Wilson on the cover, just for a second”.  </p>
<p>“We all believe you, OfJonas”, Penny reassured her partner, with the kindest smile.</p>
<p>“We should go get tomatoes now”, Emily told Renee with a sharp tone. “Before they’re all out”. When they were farther away from the other two handmaids, she said without emotion: “OfJonas will lose her tongue soon, if she doesn’t wise up”.</p>
<p>Renee was dismayed to watch Emily acting so pious and uptight. Obedient ‘OfGraem’ was the opposite of the woman she had befriended during training. The scariest part was that Renee couldn’t tell if it was only a smart public facade, to survive Gilead, or if Emily had really been converted by the regime. </p>
<p>Once they finished picking vegetables and fruit, from the outdoor market, they had to walk towards a store a couple of blocks away, to get milk and eggs.      </p>
<p>“The tomatoes we got look very good”, Renee commented, not knowing what else to say.</p>
<p>“They do. I heard they were brought this morning, from the agricultural colonies”</p>
<p>“Agricultural colonies?”, Renee raised an eyebrow, having never heard of such thing. She figured it was an innocuous question, although she couldn’t see Emily’s facial expression, due the bonnet.        </p>
<p>“Like the colonies, only not contaminated. Male prisoners, charged with minor offenses, work there… harvesting food, picking up cotton and such”, Emily explained, since that wasn’t information forbidden for handmaids anyway. It was surprising Renee didn’t already know. It spoke volumes of how isolated the former agent had been in the last 30 months.</p>
<p>“Minor offenses?”</p>
<p>“Common thieves, adulterers and such… Provided they repent and ask for mercy, of course”</p>
<p>‘<em>Larry might have ended up there, if he had begged for his life, if he hadn’t been an FBI agent, if he hadn’t known too much’</em>, Renee thought, finding such realisation very unsettling. </p>
<p>They arrived to a store known as ‘<em>Milk and Honey’</em>. A picture of a bottle and a smiling bee indicated such name, rather than a lettered sign. The regime had decided that even shops signs with letters would be too dangerous, too tempting and corrupting for the women.</p>
<p>As they walked inside, Renee couldn’t help to stare at the very young guardian with a machine gun posted by the door. She thought about how easy it’d be for her to steal that gun. She had started training with similar weapons when she joined the FBI, in 2006, back when that ‘guardian’ was probably still wetting Spiderman sheets. She would likely get shot down soon, by every other guardian in proximity, though. Not even her healthy ovaries would save her if she began shooting everyone in sight. But she’d get to kill a few people before dying herself. She was feeling the overwhelming urge to die after causing a massacre. She fantasised often about it.</p>
<p>She managed to get rid of those dark thoughts quickly, focusing solely on getting the eggs and the milk. She reminded herself to stay alive, for Zoey. She had to find the secret resistance and help them, for her daughter’s sake. What if Emily was part of that resistance? Or even Jack? Could that be? But… what if they were not? Perhaps they worked for The Eyes, Gilead’s police, spying for the regime. How could she know for sure? Gilead traitors and American patriots looked so much alike.    </p>
<p>“I’ll show you a way back home, walking by the river”, Emily suggested, after they finished with the shopping. “It’s a longer walk, but very pretty” </p>
<p>Renee agreed with curiosity, sensing a deeper meaning hidden in that apparently innocent suggestion…</p>
<p>They walked silently for about ten more minutes before they reached a large park, by a river. Renee realized they were standing in what used to be known as Gantry Plaza State Park. Far across that river, She could see the Manhattan skyline… or whatever was left of it.</p>
<p>She recognised some of the structures, noticing the Empire State Building was still there. She figured it had survived because the local commanders had chosen it for their own offices. Why else would they keep it? Why would they keep a building once called ‘<em>the ultimate sign of American phallic power’</em>, if not to glorify their own mighty penises?</p>
<p>Then Renee saw the massive hole where the United Nations Headquarters had once stood proudly. She gasped in horror, looking away from that gigantic pit, as a single tear ran down her cheek.        </p>
<p>She still remembered fondly being an intern for the US ambassador in the UN during college, and grad school. Even before seeing the wreckage with her own eyes, Renee had guessed the regime had torn that building down. But seeing something was very different than knowing. She understood why Emily was showing her those ruins. The message was too clear: do not expect any help from the outside world. But was Emily implying they should fight Gilead from the inside then? Or was she trying to say that Gilead was too powerful to even try fighting back?</p>
<p>“Commander Lionel Guthrie had it teared down after he took New York”, Emily explained, managing to hide her emotions. Jack had instructed her <em>not </em>to blow her own cover, or his, yet. Not until it was 100% definitive that they could still trust Renee. “We should go back home now”, she suggested, after a long awkward silence. “We have one last stop to make”</p>
<p>They continued walking until they reached a tall building with large dark-grey bricks. Renee realised that, whatever that place had been before, it was now an operation centre for Gilead’s police: the much-feared ‘Eyes’. There were three bodies of prisoners executed by the state hanging from the lower windows. Three anonymous corpses with bags covering their heads. Those beige bags had little pictograms indicating their respective crimes.</p>
<p>One bag had a tiny fetus drawn on it: someone who performed, or facilitated, abortions. It was extremely rare now. But the regime kept hunting down anyone who had, ever, been involved in an abortion. Except the fathers of the babies, of course. This dead prisoner was male, in a white coat: the doctor himself. She thought about Larry’s stepfather… For the last 30 months, she had looked at the hands of every dead doctor hanging from multiple walls, searching for the tattoo in Cesar Rivas’s left ring finger. But she hadn’t seen it in any corpse. It gave her some hope… maybe he and Big Zoe <em>had </em>made it to Canada safely, after all. It was hope based on nothing. Gilead had a massive territory. Big Zoe could very well be at the colonies, or dead already, and Cesar’s body could have been hung anywhere. Renee knew that. But she welcomed any tiny sliver of hope she could get.     </p>
<p>The bag covering the second prisoner’s head had a pink triangle: a gay man. He had been a guardian, judging by his uniform. She thought of agents Mark Dornan and Jason Reed, such a nice couple. She and Larry regularly shared meals with them. One of those times, not long before their deaths, Mark and Jason dared holding hands at the restaurant and a stranger yelled ‘<em>God hates fags’</em>. Outraged for them, Renee yelled back ‘<em>God hates morons</em>!’. But Mark gently corrected her saying: ‘<em>God doesn’t hate</em>’.  </p>
<p>The bag over the third prisoner’s head was marked with an ichthys, ‘the symbol of Jesus’s fish’. It meant the corpse had once been a Catholic priest. Anyone who would give up having children was an enemy of Gilead. Anyone practicing a religion other than Gilead’s official faith was an enemy. The Sons of Jacob only allowed their own perverted version of Christianity. Larry liked to call it: ‘<em>Christianity on crack’</em>.   </p>
<p>‘<em>A priest, a doctor and a gay man…</em>’, Renee thought, sure that there was a joke starting that way. There had to be. But she couldn’t remember it. In moments like this, she truly missed Google.</p>
<p>She looked at Emily, who looked absorbed in prayer. Renee began praying silently as well. They’d been instructed to pray for the immortal souls of the dead ‘<em>sinners</em>’. Officially, an execution was meant to cleanse the sin and save the soul. That was why the regime called them: ‘<em>salvagings</em>’. But Renee was confident their souls were safe. So, instead, she prayed for Zoey. Her little girl, barely over four years old, was somewhere out there… being coached to believe in<em> their </em>fake screwed up God… a God that would hate a man for loving another man, or a man just for taking celibacy vows, or a good man like Larry just for falling out of love with his first wife. Nobody would tell Zoey: ‘<em>God doesn’t hate’</em>.   </p>
<p>“We should carry on”, Renee finally said, trying to cover the tear rolling down her cheek. She was finding this first excursion around her new area far too emotionally draining.</p>
<p>They were near their respective households, when a black Ford Transit van with tinted windows and winged eyes painted on the sides, approached at full speed and parked brusquely by a corner. The van belonged to The Eyes. Someone had gotten caught breaking the law.</p>
<p>Both handmaids held their breaths, as a sense of terror run through their bodies.</p>
<p>Emily wondered if her affair with Molly had been discovered. Perhaps they hadn’t been careful enough. Perhaps somebody other than Jack had found out. Or, maybe, Jack had betrayed her and wasn’t really a good guy. Perhaps her involvement with ‘Mayday’ had been discovered. Too many possibilities.</p>
<p>Renee wondered if this was about the stolen napkin. Had something so stupid gotten her into trouble? Had Jack reported her, after all? Did they know, somehow, that she wanted to join the resistance?    </p>
<p>Two men with sunglasses got out of the vehicle, and quickly grabbed a man who tried to run as soon as he noticed they were after him. They dragged him to the back of the van, which then accelerated away.</p>
<p>Renee couldn’t avoid a sigh of relief. For now, it wouldn’t be her…. She wouldn’t be the one tortured in their operations centre, until she confessed whatever they wanted her to confess. She wouldn’t be the one losing a body part. That unfamiliar man would be the one getting tortured, losing a body part, or his life. Not her. Not today. After the immense relief, came the guilt.           </p>
<p>“It’s okay”, Emily whispered trying to be reassuring, knowing exactly what Renee was thinking. She herself was thinking the same thing. “It’s okay to feel relieved it’s not you. It just means you’re human”</p>
<p>Those words gave Renee some comfort. It was the first glimpse of the Emily Malek from those training days. But she couldn’t afford getting too carried away by their old friendship, yet. Watching ‘The Eyes’ arresting someone only reminded her of how dangerous it could be to trust another person. </p>
<p>When she arrived to Wilson’s house, Jack was washing the car in the driveway.</p>
<p>“Nice walk?”, he asked her.  </p>
<p>“Yes. Thank you”. She used a polite but cold tone, before rushing back inside the manor. The last thing she needed was to get caught socializing with a male in the front garden. It wasn’t worth it. No matter how sexy he looked with his shirt a little bit wet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 13th, 2016</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Renee’s breakfast was served at 8 AM, as it had for the past 28 days. Handmaids had to follow a strict routine stablished by the state. Although rules could vary slightly, depending on the particular commander and wife. The ability to have meals in the kitchen was one thing she had gained as ‘OfAlan’. She was surprised to discover that having a meal surrounded by people was, yet another, underrated luxury. Even though she wisely didn’t say much, she found it interesting to observe Bonnie and Rita talking to each other. <em>Marthas</em> were prone to gossip, and were an unexpected source of information.  </p>
<p>Bonnie sat down, ready to have her own toast with bacon and eggs. But, before touching the food, she bowed her head and linked her hands to pray out loud. “Dear God, we thank you for this meal and the roof over our heads, provided by Your hand. And today we’re especially grateful to You for the full recovery of our fellow <em>Martha</em>, Sonia. We feel blessed by Your infinite mercy, our Lord. Amen”</p>
<p>“I bet Sonia would feel more blessed if she hadn’t gotten shot in the first place”, Rita grumpily pointed out, with an eye roll, before chewing a piece of toast.  </p>
<p>“Would you stop it with that attitude?”, Bonnie scolded the younger <em>Martha</em>. “That guardian was only doing his job. He was just trying to protect us all”</p>
<p>“From what?”, Rita snapped, in disbelief. “She just got nervous at a check point because she couldn’t find her identity card, and the guardian shot her… just like that. And her card was in her other pocket all along”. Yet, the most heart-breaking part, to Rita, was that they would have let poor Sonia die, had the wounds not been superficial. Not many resources were spent on disposable <em>Marthas</em>. It was a miracle that, in addition of being trigger-happy, that boy-guardian had shitty aiming.  </p>
<p>Bonnie got visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting, moving her food around her plate with a fork, as if struggling to find ways to justify what had happened. “Well, she could have been hiding a weapon, or a bomb’s trigger, for all that boy knew. The guardians have to keep us safe”. Bonnie’s hazel eyes got suddenly teary. “Or have you forgotten the nuclear bombs and the DC Massacre?”.      </p>
<p>“Of course I haven’t”, Rita affirmed, and clenched her teeth, refraining from saying another word. Her own son enlisted in Gilead’s army right after such attacks. Matthew was then killed in combat, fully convinced that Gilead’s ways were the solution to protect decent people. But she was forced to hide her truest feelings about it.     </p>
<p>The women went suddenly silent when Jack stepped into the kitchen, with his usual: ‘Blessed day’.    </p>
<p>“Blessed day, Jack”, Bonnie greeted, standing up to serve the man breakfast. “I’ll make you some eggs”.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Bonnie”, Jack grabbed a cup of coffee, and took his favourite seat… right in front of Renee. They couldn’t talk at all while others were around. But he enjoyed just looking at her. More than he should. When her eyes finally met his, he mouthed: “Good morning”   </p>
<p>“Good morning”, she whispered back.</p>
<p>As always, she felt his shoe touching hers under the table.</p>
<p>She still didn’t know what to think of Jack. He was constantly observing her. But, in the last 28 days, they hadn’t gotten many chances to talk. And she didn’t trust him enough for a real talk, yet, anyway. She was uncertain of his motivations to be nice and flirt with her. It could all be a trap. He didn’t seem like a dumb guy who would risk his own life out of pure lust, or loneliness. And he was no ordinary low-rank guardian… She noticed the other guardians calling him ‘sir’, as if he was more important.</p>
<p>Once Rita and Bonnie left the table, to continue their busy days, Jack was able to give Renee some stunning news: “He wants to see you”. Renee tilted her head, with understanding confusion. “The Commander”, he clarified. “He wants to see you tonight, in his office, after everyone is in bed”</p>
<p>“Why?”, her confusion turned into dread.</p>
<p>“I don’t know”, Jack said, without showing he feared the worst. He put his plate aside and got up. “It’ll be around 9 pm. I’ll knock on your door twice when it’s safe”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, Renee paced around her bedroom, feeling anxious, and terrified. What did Wilson want? The handmaid and the Commander were never, ever, supposed to be alone together. She wasn’t meant to be his concubine. She was a womb with legs. A vessel for his child. Nothing more. A Commander breaking such core rule wasn’t unheard of. Many Commanders used their handmaids as concubines. It had never happened to her, though. Her former Commanders had abided to Gilead’s rules and she had felt pathetically grateful for that. Now Wilson was inviting her to his study and, possibly, to her doom… Except it wasn’t an invitation. A person could politely decline an invitation.</p>
<p>Two knocks on the door startled her.</p>
<p>Jack led the way to Wilson’s study, making sure nobody else saw her. Renee began feeling like the dumb star of a horror movie, running foolishly up the stairs, instead of rushing out the front door.</p>
<p>“Come in”, Wilson ordered, after hearing a knock on the door. </p>
<p>Renee sheepishly stepped into the studio, while Jack remained outside.</p>
<p>The mysterious office was very elegant, only messier than the rest of the house, since the <em>Marthas</em> weren’t allowed inside. Renee now understood why. Most of the green walls were occupied by gigantic bookcases, housing hundredths of different books. There was a large window, but the brown wooden blinds were shut, and several tall bushes had been planted right outside… protecting the room from prying eyes. Even a Commander had to be careful about owning books. Certain reading material, deemed too heretic, was forbidden even for him. Which sins were hidden in this place?</p>
<p>Renee struggled to keep her eyes on the floor, feeling too curious.</p>
<p>“Close the door behind you”, Alan ordered, while sitting behind his desk. After obeying, Renee remained immobile, by the door. She looked nervous, with good reason. “Have a seat”, he offered, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. But she was still reluctant to move. “Please”, he insisted with a softer tone, resorting to the least used word in his vocabulary.</p>
<p>She blushingly moved forward and couldn’t help to look around. She realised how much she missed reading. Her soul had been too occupied grieving for Larry and the kidnapping of her daughter. She hadn’t truly mourned for everything else that had been taken from her.        </p>
<p>“Thank you for coming”, he said, as if she had been given another option.</p>
<p>“You are welcome”, she replied, trying not to look directly at him. She was already breaking a crucial rule just by being in his office. She didn’t want to make things worse.</p>
<p>“It’s okay”, he reassured her. “You can look at me”</p>
<p>“I’m not supposed to”, she reminded him.</p>
<p>“It’s okay. In this room, we can bend the rules a little. Nobody has to know”</p>
<p>She then looked at him in the eye. His greyish, small, almond-shaped eyes had a hint of pity, which she resented. She also noticed that the tip of his nose looked like a tiny bat opening its wings.</p>
<p>He smiled, pleased that she felt more comfortable around him. “Hey, there”</p>
<p>“Hi”, she replied.</p>
<p>“You must be finding this very strange”</p>
<p>“It’s… unorthodox”, she admitted, still a bit shy.</p>
<p>He chuckled. “I know, but I really wanted to talk to you before our first ceremony”</p>
<p>“Why is that?”. All her muscles tensed at the mere mention of the ceremony, due the following day.</p>
<p>“Because of our history”, he said. She stared down at the oak desk, looking uncomfortable. She obviously remembered him. “We met once, when your husband got that medal”</p>
<p>“Yes”, she confirmed, not able to look at him. The memory of George Winslow giving Larry a medal, just a few months before murdering him, made her stomach twitch. The image of every member of ‘The Committee’ shaking Larry’s hand and congratulating him had haunted her since his death.</p>
<p>“I remember you were a little upset then”, Alan admitted. “You felt you deserved a medal as well”</p>
<p>Renee then stared at him in disbelief. Did he really think she was still upset over that stupid medal? Was that what this meeting was about? Seriously?</p>
<p>“That’s in the past, sir”, she muttered what she figured Alan wanted to hear.</p>
<p>“Good”, he approved, with a smirk. “But that’s not why I needed to talk to you”</p>
<p>“It’s not?”</p>
<p>“No. I wanted to clear the air before our first ceremony…”</p>
<p>“Clear the air?”, she was feeling genuinely lost. What did he mean?</p>
<p>“About what happened to your husband”, he left his chair and sat on his desk, closer to her.</p>
<p>Renee straightened her back, in alert. The last thing she wanted was to talk about Larry's execution with Wilson. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, she mumbled: “What about it?”</p>
<p>Alan hesitated for a moment before talking. What he was about say would get him into trouble with his peers. But it was just him and his handmaid. Who would believe her, anyway? He wanted her to feel more at ease around him. His goal was to run a successful household, full of children, free of nasty incidents or ugly scandals. He had learned by the hard way that keeping his handmaid as content as possible was a big part of that.  </p>
<p>“It wasn’t my idea”, he admitted softly. “Criminalizing second-marriages? I was against it”</p>
<p>“You were against it?”, Renee babbled, not knowing what to say. Surprisingly, Wilson seemed to believe those words would make her jump all over him, overwhelmed with desire.</p>
<p>“Let me tell you a secret… I don’t believe in punishing a man just because the object of his affection changed over the years”, he whispered, getting closer to her.</p>
<p>Feeling his breath on her ear gave her nausea all the sudden. She looked at a gold letter opener over the table, wishing she could grab it and kill him with it.</p>
<p>He stood up to get a drink. “Also…”, he said, while pouring scotch on a glass. “I didn’t build an empire by getting rid of talented people. I suggested offering agents like your husband a chance to redeem themselves, by working for us. But George Winslow and the Bauers were adamant. I was outvoted”</p>
<p>Unshed tears burned Renee’s eyes. But she managed not to bawl in front of him. “Well, uh, thank you for being against it”, she said, trying to mask the sarcasm, hoping to end the conversation. She just wanted to leave. But she needed his permission, and she detested that. “But here we are”</p>
<p>“Yeah, funny how things turned out”, Alan chuckled. “If I had gotten my way and he had played his cards right, your husband would be a Commander, perhaps he’d be having a similar conversation with some girl in red called<em> OfLarry</em> right now”       </p>
<p>It was at that moment, when Renee realized how she could hurt Wilson, truly hurt him.</p>
<p>“But… He wouldn’t have gotten a handmaid. He could make babies with me”, she pointed out, trying to voice it like the innocent stating of a fact. Alan’s pained expression confirmed she had wounded him in a way a weapon never could.</p>
<p>Alan already knew Larry Moss could make a baby. But he had forgotten for a moment and detested the reminder. Right then, Alan felt the strong urge to put a baby inside Renee, only to prove that he could, too. He didn’t wish to wait for the ceremony. But he was determined to handle his handmaid in a much smarter way this time around. It’d benefit him more, in the long term.</p>
<p>“That’s true”, he acknowledged, reluctantly. “Well, it’s getting late. You should go back to your room”</p>
<p>Outside the studio, Renee sighed with palpable relief. She was startled by the sight of Jack, still posted near the door. He had slipped her mind. She didn’t know if he had heard the conversation, or not. But she could see that pity she detested in his aquamarine eyes.    </p>
<p>“You okay?”, he asked, in a soft whisper.</p>
<p>She nodded with a fake smile, and retreated fast into her bedroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She changed her red uniform for her nightgown, and laid in her bed, but sleep seemed more elusive than usual. She fidgeted, unable to stop thinking about Alan’s words. Did he even know about the evidence Larry planned to take abroad? It seemed like Alan was, strangely, unaware of it, and believed Larry had been killed only over the divorce. Not that she could truly believe anything coming from the commander’s sociopathic mouth. But it was a doubt that haunted her often… had Larry actually been executed for ‘adultery’, or because somebody inside the regime found out about his plans?</p>
<p>And what if Larry had been allowed to live, as reward for becoming Judas? What if Larry had been offered one chance to keep his life, his wife, his daughter… if he betrayed America, serving the Gilead regime? No chance in hell Larry would have agreed. How would she feel if he had, though? She would be in his bed. Zoey would be with them. At what cost? The price would be their souls.</p>
<p>Yet, such deal had never existed. Instead, Renee had been offered a very different deal, and she had taken it. She had agreed to sleep with any commander of their choosing and produce babies for Gilead, in exchange for her life. Over the last 30 months, she had often wondered if Larry would approve what she was doing, without getting a certain answer. Now she leaned towards believing he would… because she would have begged him to do anything, anything, to stay alive.    </p>
<p>Her body eventually surrendered to exhaustion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 14th, 2016</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Renee was startled awake from a horrible nightmare where Larry was a Commander of the Faithful, still married to his first wife, and she was their handmaid. The three of them were performing the ceremony, and Larry treated her like just a womb for him to fill up.</p>
<p>She was still recovering from such nightmare, trying to catch her breath, when she noticed Sue Ellen in the bedroom, towering by the bed. Renee blinked a few times, in disbelief.   </p>
<p>“Buck up, OfAlan”, Sue Ellen demanded with impatience, tossing a little brown bag towards her. “I brought you a present”</p>
<p>Renee looked inside the bag, shocked to see a home ovulation test. It had obviously been gotten from the black market. Home ovulation tests were strictly forbidden, since they could be used for the grave sin of avoiding a pregnancy. They had been restricted for the general public during Hal Gardner’s administration, and banned all together after the takeover.        </p>
<p>The Marthas reported when the handmaid was menstruating, since they provided the sanitary pads, and the aunts kept track. That was how cycles got monitored in Gilead. But menstrual blood only indicated when the woman had ovulated last, which predicted the following ovulation in ‘most’ cases, but it wasn’t always reliable. Several girls from Renee’s Catholic school had discovered so by the hard way. It impressed her that Sue Ellen was smart enough to notice the flaw in the system, and brave enough to acquire something from the black market.</p>
<p>“You… you don’t want me to just visit the doctor, to be sure?”, Renee asked with the ovulation test still in her hands, still shocked by Sue Ellen’s willingness to break the rules. During the last 29 days, Mrs. Wilson had acted like the typical wife of a commander.</p>
<p>“I need to see it for myself”, the blonde woman said.</p>
<p>Not in position to argue, Renee took the test. She felt certain respect for the wife’s scepticism. Perhaps, Gilead hadn’t completely killed the sharp blonde corporate lawyer Renee had met once, after all.</p>
<p>Of course, there was the small matter of what to do if the test was negative. They couldn’t admit using the test. Sue Ellen was planning on going forward with the official ceremony, regardless, just to put up a show, and then allow Alan do a secret ‘unofficial ceremony’ whenever the ovulation test was positive. She was sure Renee would go along with it because, well… the colonies.</p>
<p>But there was no need for such scheme.</p>
<p>“We’re good to go”, Sue Ellen announced, visibly relieved, after seeing two clear lines in the test strip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later, at the ‘<em>Milk and Honey’</em> store, Renee noticed Emily’s hesitation while staring at the bottles full of milk inside the refrigerators. “OfGraem, is there a problem?”     </p>
<p>“I can’t tell if this is cow milk”, Emily admitted softly, feeling embarrassed. The glass bottles were marked with tiny pictograms, indicating the exact type of milk. Not that residents of Gilead were overwhelmed by a large number of options. They only had cow, goat or soy milk. But Emily needed the right one, and, without her glasses, the marks on the bottles were a blur to her.</p>
<p>Renee handed her a bottle with a tiny cow. “This one is”</p>
<p>“Thank you”, Emily smiled, putting the bottle in her reusable bag. “I really miss my glasses”, she let it slip. “Not that I want to read”, she soon clarified. “It’s that… the other day I got in trouble from bringing home soy milk instead of cow milk”</p>
<p>“It’s okay”, Renee reassured her, with the tiniest smile.    </p>
<p>“Should we take the long way back?”, Emily suggested, once they were done shopping.</p>
<p>“I can’t today. I have to get ready for the ceremony”</p>
<p>“We'll go straight home, then”</p>
<p>Renee wanted to scream at Emily that Wilson’s manor was not ‘home’. It was a prison. She wanted to tell her about Jack’s flirting, the secret conversation with Alan and the ovulation test. She hated how she and Emily were still tiptoeing around each other, nearly a month after their reunion. It was frustrating and lonely. But she understood the need for caution.    </p>
<p>“May God bless your endeavour and bring forth His miracle”, Emily said what was expected from her, as they walked side by side. When nobody else was within the earshot, she added: “You’ll get through it”</p>
<p>“I know”, Renee nodded, surprised to hear candid words from Emily. She didn’t want to push for more.       </p>
<p>“I use the advice you gave me at The Red Centre”, Emily whispered. She decided to test Renee, by confiding in her, just a little bit. “You told me: treat it like a job… you’re not there, you are not you.. and he can be whoever you want him to be, or you can…”  </p>
<p>“…pretend he’s sticking it in a hornet nest”, Renee recalled her own advice.</p>
<p>“Yeah”   </p>
<p>They both chuckled softly, relieved by the small hint of that sisterhood forged back at The Red Centre.   </p>
<p>  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the evening, she was required to take a bath. Handmaids were mandated ordinary baths four times a week. Plus, a special bath before each ceremony.</p>
<p>Sinking into the warm water, she thought of Zoey and their ‘Baby and Mommy’ swimming lessons. She also thought about swimming in the ocean with her and Larry during their vacations in Miami. Her and Larry had gotten less than five years together, and less than two years with their child. Very little time. But she thanked all the Gods of every religion that existed, or had ever existed, for that short period of happiness. Her memories with Larry were now carrying her, keeping her warm.</p>
<p>She didn’t notice the water getting much colder, and her hands getting wrinkled, until there was a persistent knock on the bathroom door.</p>
<p>Then Bonnie shaved Renee’s legs and armpits. Such was the only act of ‘vanity’ allowed for women, besides waxing the upper lip and eyebrows. Body hair was too manly, too resembling of hardcore feminists from the past. Vanity was a sin, but women trying to imitate men was a much graver sin.</p>
<p>All the preparations for the ceremony reminded Renee of her mom prepping their cocker spaniel for a show. She thought of Carla Moss’s hateful words: ‘<em>You’re about to become Alan Wilson’s obedient bitch’</em>.</p>
<p>Renee was disgusted by the commanders, their wives, and the damn aunts… but, on ceremony days, she was even more sickened by herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once she was fully dressed in a recently-clean red uniform, she headed to the main sitting room. It was still empty. A red pillow was set in front of the white fireplace. She kneeled on it, like she was supposed to, and fidgeted nervously, stretching her back.</p>
<p>The ‘Marthas’ then walked into the room and stood behind her. While Bonnie was delighted to have a vessel that would bring a baby into the household, Rita treated the handmaid as an annoyance that added to her chores... more clothes to wash, more food to make… and a person that had to be on constant suicide watch. The memory of the former OfAlan was still fresh, so Rita tried to avoid getting attached to the new one. Yet, on that particular night, Rita was too sorry for Renee and tried to say something nice, anything.        </p>
<p>“The eggs you picked up today were very good and fresh”, she told her, softly.</p>
<p>Renee couldn’t help a tiny smirk. It was a very odd time to compliment her ability to choose good eggs. But she appreciated the sentiment. Rita always complained about the shopping and was now trying to be kinder, for a change.</p>
<p>Then Jack walked in and stood right behind Renee. Too close for her liking.</p>
<p>A few seconds later, Sue Ellen entered the room, sitting on a chair by the chimney. She appeared really anxious. Much like Renee, she wanted the whole indignity to be over already.     </p>
<p>Finally, they heard a knock on the door. The commander was supposed to knock, as part of the ritual, because during ceremony nights, the living room and the bedroom belonged to his wife. It was a little gesture to make the wife feel like the real star of the evening. Such a small gesture. But, in Gilead, small gestures meant everything.       </p>
<p>“Come in”, Sue Ellen said.</p>
<p>“Good evening”, Alan greeted everyone, and then kissed his wife on the forehead. “darling”</p>
<p>The kiss wasn’t part of the official ritual. It was only part of Alan and Sue Ellen’s special ritual. He tried to reassure his wife, to remind her that the handmaid was just the body that’d give them a child.   </p>
<p>“Okay, let’s get started”, he said, giving his pocket watch a little look.</p>
<p>Renee noticed he didn’t look too happy for a man that was about to get laid. His greyish eyes seemed rather sad. But she didn’t give a damn. Right then, she was only feeling hatred for him.  </p>
<p>He took a small key and opened an elegant coffer over the chimney, inside which he kept the bible. Not even the bible was accessible to everyone in this so-called ‘divine-republic’. But such irony seemed lost in the Commander. However, Renee noticed his wife’s subtle eye-roll.   </p>
<p>Standing in his usual place, between the chimney and the handmaid, Alan looked up Genesis 30, cleared his throat, and began reading the passage. He could have recited it from memory. Anyone in that room could have, at that point. But him reading it was part of the sacred ritual:</p>
<p>“<em>And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob…</em>”</p>
<p>He stared directly into Renee’s eyes, sending chills through her spine.</p>
<p>“<em>Give me children, or else I die</em>”</p>
<p>He turned his eyes on his wife, as he kept reading:</p>
<p>“<em>And Jacob's anger was kindled against Rachel: and he said, Am I in God's stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb? And she said, behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her. And she gave him Bilhah her handmaid to wife: and Jacob went in unto her</em>”</p>
<p>After the reading, there was a moment of silence. Everyone in the room was supposed to pray for the success of the ceremony, for a pregnancy.</p>
<p>Renee’s soul was torn between her strong desire to avoid the colonies, and the dread and repulsion she felt at the thought of carrying a baby for Alan and his wife. She used the praying time to silently ask God: Do I really deserve to be here? Why?</p>
<p>According to <em>them</em>, she deserved it for being such a disgusting whore. She had heard it so often that she came to believe it, sometimes… especially while attacked by memories of her year with Vladimir. But many sweeter memories made with Larry told her otherwise. She didn’t know what to believe… maybe the worst version of herself represented who she <em>really</em> was. Perhaps God <em>was</em> letting awful things happen to her to ‘teach her a lesson’, after all.  </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jack just prayed that God would forgive him for letting yet another handmaid go through this nightmare. He prayed for an absolution, without any hope of ever getting one.</p>
<p>Once the moment of silent mediation and prayer was over, it was time for the Commander, his wife and the handmaid to retreat to the main bedroom.</p>
<p>The three of them didn’t exchange a word.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen sat on the bed fully-clothed, as Renee laid between her legs, with her own red skirt barely lifted to the waist. The women held hands, with the back of Renee’s head pressed against the wife’s abdomen.</p>
<p>At some point during the planning of Gilead, someone decided that the wife had to be present for the whole ceremony. It was meant to be reassuring, so she could witness the lack of feelings involved. It was only about filling a womb. But Sue Ellen found it beyond humiliating. She sometimes wished to stay in a different room while it happened. But the protocol served, mainly, a way to control the process. Did the ceremony go exactly as prescribed by Gilead? The rules could only be broken in households were the three people involved agreed to break them, without telling another soul. It required a level of trust between three people that was almost impossible to reach in Gilead.     </p>
<p>Alan calmly took his jacket off, folded it and placed over the chair. He was ready to perform his duty.</p>
<p>At the beginning, Renee had wondered how the Commanders were able take a fully-clothed woman, touching her as little as possible, without her being able to do anything he liked, while his own wife was watching. That couldn’t be in any way alluring. But, of course… a Commander was no different than any other rapist. Gilead had institutionalized rape, providing strict guidelines for it, allowing women to ‘choose’ between it and the Colonies, but it was still rape. And rape had always been about power.  </p>
<p>During the act, Sue Ellen kept her eyes shut and whispered softly, to herself, multiple times: '<em>Give me children, or else I die’</em>. Just those seven words… to remind herself why she was allowing it. Gilead’s teaching had gotten to her. Alan’s delusion was rubbing on her. She wanted to believe a miracle was still possible, after so many prayers.  </p>
<p>Renee heard the whispers, and felt beyond exasperated. She wanted to scream: ‘<em>What do you think we are trying to do, cunt</em>?’. She looked at Alan, wondering if he was hearing his wife too. It was difficult to read him. His face was strangely serious. Like someone concentrating on defusing a bomb.</p>
<p>Finally, his breathing got heavier, his movements became faster, until he used his free hand to hold on tight to the post of the bed and he let out a grunt.  </p>
<p>It was all done.</p>
<p>Renee remained laying on her back, immobile, as she was supposed to.</p>
<p>He hastily cleaned himself, put his jacket back on and left the room.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen rushed to leave the bed, nearly hitting Renee’s face with the knee in the process. Brusquely, she tossed a pillow at the handmaid. “You know what to do?”</p>
<p>Renee nodded, placing the pillow under her pelvis, to keep her hips elevated. She was meant to stay in that position for ten minutes, to facilitate conception.</p>
<p>The wife had to kneel by the bed, using those ten minutes for prayer and meditation. But Sue Ellen Wilson was in no mood for such formalities. Instead, she locked herself inside the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door.</p>
<p>From the bed, Renee could hear the wife’s loud sobs, and a couple of items being smashed.</p>
<p><em>‘Oh, yeah… Sucks to be you, Mrs. Wilson’</em>, Renee thought with sarcasm.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later that night, in her own bed, she held on to the stolen linen napkin. It reminded her that the life inside her head was still her own. Her thoughts still belonged to her, even if nothing else did. But it didn’t provide enough comfort after that first ceremony. All she felt was Alan’s cum inside her. She could almost smell it.</p>
<p>She began feeling suffocated.</p>
<p>It didn’t help that it was 80 degrees and air conditioning was forbidden.</p>
<p>Her window, naturally, wouldn’t open.</p>
<p>Desperate, she ran towards the front garden of the house. She took deep breaths of fresh air, trying to compose herself. She stared at the locked front gates, knowing very well she couldn’t cross them. Even if she managed to steal the keys and walk away… how far would she get? She had a daughter, somewhere, who needed her to stay alive.</p>
<p>All the news about the open resistance getting massacred, and seeing the UN headquarters turned into ashes, hadn’t killed her hope. Not completely, at least. But it was getting more and more difficult to believe the nightmare would end eventually. </p>
<p>Then, she noticed Jack was standing outside too.       </p>
<p>“Can’t sleep?”, he whispered. She shook her head. “Me neither”. He looked around, worried that the younger guard who watched the house at night would see her. “But you can’t stay here. Come on…”.</p>
<p>He led a terrified Renee inside the house, towards the kitchen. She watched him warming up some milk. He didn’t turn on the lights. But the full moon outside the window and the flames from the stove brightened some of the darkness. Finally, she dared to ask: “Will you report me for being outside?”</p>
<p>“I can’t report you, remember?”, he casually handed her a mug with warm milk. “I never saw you if you never saw me”</p>
<p>Renee gave him a ‘<em>that’s bullshit’</em> look, with her arms folded across her chest. He acted like they had a ‘mutual-assured-destruction’ situation, but they didn’t. As a handmaid, she would be punished far more severely for being outside and stealing a napkin, than Jack would ever be for what he had done.</p>
<p>“So, you took some of their milk…. Like Wilson cares about stuff like that, coming from his favourite guardian”, she rolled her eyes. “You haven’t done anything that would make him angry”</p>
<p>She was barely finished saying that, when Jack walked towards her, full of determination, and pressed his lips against hers. She tensed at first, moving back slightly, to look into his eyes, in astonishment. But when he kissed her again, her mouth opened slightly and he could feel her melting in the kiss and putting her arms around him.</p>
<p>As much as his body was urging him to go on, to take it further, he hadn’t completely lost his mind… yet. He remembered where they were, and what was the point of it all.</p>
<p>“I have now”, he declared, moving away. He had taken such a massive risk. One word out of her mouth about it, and he was a dead man. They’d punish her, of course, but they wouldn’t kill her as long as her womb was able to carry the commander’s child. They both knew she now had a very powerful card to hold against him. “Does it make you feel better?”</p>
<p>“Yes”, she admitted. Having even the tiniest sliver of power over anybody felt good.</p>
<p>Jack looked almost hurt for a second. But then he nodded, understanding, before withdrawing to his own bedroom.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for the support and for reading this! Please, let me know what you think... What did you like? What didn't you like?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Wonderwall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Christmas Eve 2011-  Larry and Renee welcome their baby girl into a world where healthy births are extremely rare and Christian extremists keep getting traction. But their personal bliss might be too blinding. <br/>30-31 May 2016 - Commander Wilson surprises Renee with a very unusual request. A birth in her district gives her a terrifying glimpse of what could be her own future... unless she learns to trust an unexpected ally.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song used in this chapter is 'Wonderwall', by Oasis. I don't own it, duh... not profiting from it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 7: </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>                                                                                                                                                                                Wonderwall</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>December 24th 2011</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Bethesda, Maryland </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Moving slowly, Renee held on to her husband’s arm to climb the steps in her front porch, as they returned to their home. She’d been told that walking would be helpful to induce labour. She felt exhausted and too heavy, all the time. Her back hurt. Her shoes didn’t fit anymore. Cruising the 38th week of her pregnancy, she was beyond ready to meet her child. </p>
<p>They walked into their warm living room, and Larry helped Renee take off her parka. As they put their coats, scarves and hats in the hanger, they noticed two unfamiliar jackets. There were also three large suitcases by the door. Plus, dozens of presents had magically appeared under their Christmas tree. It could only mean one thing:</p>
<p>“Grandma and grandpa came early”, Renee whispered at her own belly, with child-like excitement.   </p>
<p>“Grandpa?”, Larry wrinkled his nose, not thrilled by the idea of his stepfather holding such title.</p>
<p>“Play nice”, Renee warned him. Larry had no valid reasons to dislike his mother’s husband. He was just being an overprotective son, who felt irrationally uncomfortable with his mother getting marrying out of the blue, at the age of 72. </p>
<p>Inside the kitchen, they found the breakfast bar already set for lunch with four plates and glasses. Zoe Moss was standing by the stove, grilling sandwiches. Her husband, Cesar Rivas, was by her side, trying to stir something cooking in a pot, although one of his arms was being held by a medical sling. They were both delighted by the arrival of the younger couple.</p>
<p>Zoe instantly dropped everything to hug her son and daughter-in-law. She kissed both of them on the cheeks, a custom acquired during her many trips to Europe and her time working undercover with the Italian mafia. “Hello, my dears”</p>
<p>“You told me your flight would land at 2”, Larry scolded her, seeing it was barely noon. “I was going to pick you guys up at the airport”</p>
<p>“That’s why I lied. We didn’t want to bother you”, Zoe explained, with a casual shrug.</p>
<p>“We made grilled sandwiches and soup for lunch, in case you’re hungry”, Cesar greeted Renee with a casual kiss on the cheek, as was tradition in his home country.</p>
<p>“Thank you, guys. I’m always starving these days”, Renee chuckled, keeping a hand over her massive belly. “No wonder I look like a whale”</p>
<p>“Nonsense. You look amazing”, Zoe argued, while helping Renee take a seat by the breakfast bar. She got emotional, caressing her daughter-in-law’s big belly. “Are you and my grandbaby all right?”</p>
<p>“We’re fine. She settles down after I walk, but she usually moves and kicks a lot, and hard”</p>
<p>“An active baby is a healthy baby”, Cesar approved with a grin, handing her a bowl of soup.</p>
<p>She smiled with appreciation. She then got worried by the sling in his left arm. “Cesar, what happened to your arm?”</p>
<p>“And what happened to your face, mom?”, Larry grew alarmed as well, noticing his mother had a small cut and bump on her forehead. “Were you guys in an accident?”</p>
<p>“We’re both fine. It was nothing”, Zoe reassured him, with a dismissive shrug. She turned away from her son, and focused on putting the food over the breakfast island. “Just a little disagreement with some protesters outside the clinic over who’s going to hell, and who isn’t”</p>
<p>“They assaulted two seniors?”, Larry was appalled. He already knew that protestors outside abortions clinics, like the one his stepfather managed, were getting uglier each day. But he still expected a certain level of decency.</p>
<p>“Hey!”, Zoe scolded her son, playfully hitting the back of his head. “Are you calling us <em>seniors</em>?”</p>
<p>“Mom, I’m serious”, Larry scolded her, taking his own seat. “Perhaps you should stop volunteering there, for now”. His mother scoffed, placing a bowl full of soup in front of him, as if saying ‘<em>shut up and eat’</em>. He looked at his stepfather, grasping for any support. “It’s not safe for you either, Cesar. I deal with bomb threats to clinics like yours every week”.  </p>
<p>“I don’t get why those lunatics keep doing this”, Zoe puffed, with frustration and anger, sitting next to her daughter-in-law. “Almost nobody gets pregnant by accident anymore. The few abortions done now are mainly because of fetal deformities, babies that wouldn’t survive birth anyway”.  </p>
<p>“If those bible-thumping morons saw what I see…”, Cesar groaned, not wishing to elaborate. He had nightmares about tiny babies with no hope of surviving. The real cruelty would be forcing their mothers to carry them to term, only to watch those babies struggle and suffer for hours, or days.</p>
<p>Renee shivered, pushing her plate aside. Stories about babies born with fatal deformities were becoming more and more common. The chances of a baby being healthy were one in five.</p>
<p>“Let’s not talk about that now. You’re scaring Renee”. Larry awkwardly pretended he wasn’t freaking out in secret too. Both future parents were terrified. But he was trying to stay calm for his wife. </p>
<p>Feeling foolish, Zoe held Renee’s hand, to offer comfort. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t mean…”.</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Ma”, Renee reassured her.</p>
<p>“Your baby looks perfect in those scans you sent me”, Cesar added in an instant. “I bet you have nothing to worry about”  </p>
<p>“I know”, the pregnant woman put on a brave face. She didn’t want people treating her like a delicate princess.</p>
<p>“Anyway, the clinic will have to shut down in March”, Zoe announced with a resigned tone, sadly blowing on the chicken soup that filled her own bowl. “So…”</p>
<p>Renee dropped her spoon and looked at Cesar, in disbelief. “You’ll have to shut it down?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. They’ll pass proposition 37 in March. Nothing to do”, the doctor replied. He glanced at Zoe, seeming uncomfortable. Another sign of his anxiety was that his Hispanic accent, softened after 34 years of living in the US, was getting stronger. Zoe reached out her hand, to hold his.</p>
<p>“But what about STD testing? Birth control? Cancer screening?”, Renee was appalled. There was a clear war on women, and nothing she could do to stop it.  </p>
<p>“None of that matters to them”, Zoe scoffed. “They’ll shut the entire organization down”</p>
<p>“So, what’s next for you?”, Renee struggled not to cry. She knew her mother-in-law adored being active. It was why Zoe started volunteering at that Florida clinic in the first place. </p>
<p>“We’ll move to Pennsylvania, to the cabin”, Zoe casually drank a spoonful of soup, as if she wasn’t saying anything strange.</p>
<p>Larry looked at his mother as if she had suddenly grown a second head. “But you hate that place”</p>
<p>“I don’t hate it”, his mother objected, with little conviction.</p>
<p>“You find it beyond boring”, Larry reminded her, with a ‘<em>don’t take me for an idiot</em>’ tone. “Every summer, when I was kid, you’d challenge me to play basketball saying: <em>If I win, one week at nonna’s cabin, if you win, two weeks at nonna’s cabin</em>”. </p>
<p>“Lawrence Moss”, Zoe lifted her index finger towards him, using his full name to make clear she was serious. “I may not like being called <em>a senior</em>, but I’m not 40 anymore. I need boring and quiet now”</p>
<p>Larry and Renee locked eyes, with the same suspicion running through their minds. It was unlike Zoe to slow down, even at the age of 73, and a cabin in the middle of a forest was the type of secluded place that would make an excellent clandestine clinic. But Renee was more than willing to turn a blind eye. Somebody <em>had</em> to continue the clinic’s work. And Larry too happy to ignore his own instincts and believe his mother’s lie.</p>
<p>So, they changed the topic of conversation.</p>
<p>After they were done eating, Renee flinched, feeling a weak pain in her womb. It passed after a few seconds, and she drank some water.</p>
<p>Larry grew alarmed. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Yes, honey, just those Braxton Hicks… I’ve been feeling them for weeks”</p>
<p>“Irregular short pains that become weaker and disappear?”, Cesar asked, and Renee confirmed it with a nod. He then shrugged, unconcerned: “Then, yes, those are Braxton Hicks”</p>
<p>Zoe couldn’t help to clap her hands, feeling ecstatic. She was anxious to meet her grandchild. “That means we’re getting closer to the real thing”. She put her hands over Renee’s belly, and spoke to the bump: “You’re almost here, baby girl”   </p>
<p>Cesar noticed the terror in Renee’s eyes, and tried to be reassuring. “It’ll be okay. I know this’s all very scary but you’re not alone”. He then patted Larry’s back with a friendly smile, suggesting: “Son, why don’t you make her a bath? That helps with Braxton Hicks. Your mom and I will clean up here”</p>
<p>“A bath actually sounds great right now, babe”, Renee reached out her hand to Larry, so he’d help her get down the stool.</p>
<p>The younger couple headed upstairs, to the main bedroom, where Renee changed her clothes for a big pink robe. “Why do you hate Cesar?”, she finally asked her husband.</p>
<p>“I don’t <em>hate</em> him”, Larry protested, as he grabbed clean towels.</p>
<p>“You flinch whenever he calls you <em>son</em>”, his wife pointed out. “And God knows that’s not out of loyalty to your birth father. You always prayed for a different father; you finally have the chance”</p>
<p>“You don’t get it”, Larry sighed. “All my life I’ve watched my mom dating man after man… they would buy me gifts to get to her… but she never kept a man for long. She starts getting too bored, or too trapped. I’m used to just ignoring her lovers”.</p>
<p>“Except she <em>married</em> this one, babe… they’ve been married for over a year”, she reminded him gently, as they watched their bathtub fill up with warm water. Larry just nodded, saying nothing, while searching for the bath salts. “I find him interesting”, she then admitted. “I doubt your mom will ever be bored with him”.</p>
<p>Larry pretended to get jealous. “Wow, I knew about your thing for older men, but I never thought a 67-year-old would be my competition”</p>
<p>“I don’t have <em>a thing</em> for older men”, Renee feigned outrage, and playfully hit Larry with a towel.  </p>
<p>Still chuckling, Larry put his arms around her for a kiss. Their lips caressed, until Renee flinched.</p>
<p>Larry widened his eyes, alarmed. “Another pain?”</p>
<p>“Yeah”. She breathed out relieved when it passed quickly. “But short and weak… should be fine”</p>
<p>He nodded reassuringly, and helped her get into the full bathtub.</p>
<p>She tried to just let the warm water embrace and relax, as Larry brought a chair to sit next to her and keep her company.</p>
<p>“This is happening soon”, Renee murmured, with a hand on her belly.</p>
<p>“You’re scared about…?”, Larry looked away from her, to hide that he was scared too.</p>
<p>“It’s not just your mom and Cesar, Larry”, she was getting frustrated, because her husband kept refusing to even talk about the metaphorical elephant in the room. “Have you seen the news lately? Everyone’s talking about babies born with serious defects, stillbirths…”  </p>
<p>“But we know our baby will be okay”, he insisted, wishing to continue in denial.</p>
<p>“Do we?”, Renee asked rhetorically. “They’re saying many babies seem fine in scans, but then they live only a few minutes or hours” She had a knot on her throat and her eyes filled with tears. “And it’s so fucking random. Some preacher on TV said: <em>During each conception, God tosses a coin to decide if the baby belongs on Earth or in heaven, while all angels hold their breaths and pray, watching where the coin lands</em>” </p>
<p>“You really shouldn’t watch the news”, Larry stuttered, not knowing any words that could comfort his wife, or himself. Finally, he gently stroked her hair, saying: “No matter what happens, we’ll still have each other. Always”</p>
<p>“Always”, she agreed, feeling slightly reassured.  </p>
<p>“So, you made the playlist?”, he asked, to distract her, and himself, from their biggest fear.</p>
<p>She smirked. “All ready. It’s on my phone”</p>
<p>Feeling curious, Larry checked her phone. There was a folder labelled ‘birth songs’ with some tunes Renee had downloaded to hear during their daughter’s birth. Supposedly, it’d help her distract her from the immense pain.</p>
<p>His grin grew wide when he noticed ‘<em>Wonderwall</em>’ by Oasis, which brought sweet memories.   </p>
<p>“Oh, remember when I sang this for you on our first official date? I took you to our usual karaoke bar, saying I wanted a second chance to make things right, after the <em>Wild World</em> incident”</p>
<p>“and you used that second chance very wisely”, she recalled with a smile. The aftermath of her undercover mission had been a nightmare, but Larry was amazing through it all. Knowing exactly what she needed to hear right then, he chose to sing <em>Wonderwall</em> to say she was the one saving him. </p>
<p>Renee giggled, as Larry pressed play on the phone and the song began playing.</p>
<p>
  <em>Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Backbeat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the roads we have to walk are winding</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the lights that lead us there are blinding</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And after all, you're my wonderwall</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All the sudden, she felt an immense, sharp pain. She clutched Larry’s hand, feeling the pain wouldn’t end. Now she was truly scared. That contraction was stronger than any she’d experienced before.</p>
<p>Trying not to panic, Larry lifted her up, wrapping her in her robe, and placed her over their bed.</p>
<p>They were supposed to wait till the contractions became stronger, closer together and regular before rushing to the hospital. Yet, an hour after the first real contraction, Larry was panicking, and desperate to head to the hospital.</p>
<p>Cesar attempted to reassure him with his calm, confident tone. “Son, she only had two contractions in seventy minutes. Her water didn’t even break. This could take hours”</p>
<p>“I don’t care”, Larry snapped. “At least we’ll be at a hospital”</p>
<p>“You have a doctor right here”, Zoe pointed out. “Let him examine her, and we’ll know what to do”</p>
<p>Larry stared at his mother like she was insane. “Don’t be gross. My stepfather has no business anywhere near my wife’s vagina!”</p>
<p>“Everyone shut up!”, Renee suddenly screamed from the bed, cowered under the sheets, tired of people talking about her and her body parts as if she wasn’t even there. “It’s <em>my</em> vagina… <em>my </em>miracle. And I say we’re going to the hospital <em>now</em>. But Ma will help me get dressed, because, Larry… I love you, but you need to calm down”</p>
<p>Knowing that his wife was right, Larry stepped outside the main bedroom with Cesar, and paced back and forth, taking deep breaths and trying to relax. He then noticed the older man’s brown eyes were a bit teary. Larry sighed, “I’m sorry, Cesar. I know you’re a good doctor…”  </p>
<p>“That’s not it… I’m just…”, Cesar’s voice grew emotional. “This is the first time you said <em>my stepfather</em>, instead of <em>my mom’s husband</em>”. There was no actual difference. But, to him, Larry’s wording was meaningful.</p>
<p>Larry awkwardly gave the older man a quick hug and a pat on the back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once both couples arrived to the hospital, everything became more terrifying.</p>
<p>Right outside the building, there were dozens of people holding hands and praying as if their own lives depended on it. Renee had heard about religious groups gathering outside hospitals, to pray for more successful births and for the very sick babies in the NICU. Their intentions were good, but their presence only reminded her of God’s metaphorical coin… ‘<em>angels hold their breaths and pray, watching where the coin lands’</em>. She clinched more tightly to her husband’s arm.</p>
<p>“everyone’s rooting for us”, Larry commented, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.</p>
<p>A nurse noticed the arrival of a woman in labour and brought a wheelchair. As they took Renee to her room, every random person who saw her stopped whatever they were doing to say a little prayer. It was freaking her out.</p>
<p>She was immediately checked by doctors. But, as Cesar had predicted, it was still too early for the doctors to do much.</p>
<p>They helped get Renee get comfortable, in a private bedroom. As she felt a strong contraction, she held on to Zoe’s hand.</p>
<p>Unsure of how to be supportive, Larry handed his wife a cup full of ice chips. Renee stared at it with dismay, “How will <em>this</em> help?”, she snapped crankily, feeling in a lot of pain.</p>
<p>“I tossed mine at the doctor who called me <em>geriatric mother</em>”, Zoe recalled with a chuckle. “That felt pretty good”, she shrugged, and placed a pillow behind Renee’s back. “I was 34, for Christ’s sake”</p>
<p>Renee was able to laugh, in spite the pain. Not even at the age of 73, with her short hair all white, Zoe Moss looked like anything even resembling ‘<em>geriatric</em>’. </p>
<p>She suddenly felt another excruciating contraction.</p>
<p>Larry was felt helpless, watching her in so much pain. All he could do was rub her back, giving her encouraging words: “We’re all here for you, honey”</p>
<p>Renee panted, feeling the contraction finally passing.</p>
<p>“I need to get up”, she said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the bed.</p>
<p>Uncertain of what to do, Larry looked at his stepfather for guidance.</p>
<p>“That’s okay”, Cesar approved. “Mild activity at this early stage can be good”</p>
<p>Larry then helped his get out of the bed and move around the room.</p>
<p>“Feel better, darling?”, Larry asked her, with an arm firmly around her.</p>
<p>“A bit”, she nodded.</p>
<p>“I’ll show you a surprise I bought for the baby”, Larry suggested, sensing his wife needed a pleasant distraction. As his mother held Renee, he searched inside a big bag and then showed off a tiny pink bodysuit that said: <em>Future President of the United States</em>.</p>
<p>Renee chuckled, feeling delighted. “It’s perfect! I love it!”.</p>
<p>“At least they haven’t made those illegal for girls… yet”, Zoe scoffed. </p>
<p>Larry glared at his mom. “Mom, that’s not helping”. He didn’t admit that he had ordered it online and had it custom-made, because it had been impossible to find a pink one in a store.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry”, Zoe apologized, knowing it was the wrong time to talk about the country going down the drain. But she was so concerned.  </p>
<p>Cesar put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Love, Renee should drink fluids, to keep her energy up”</p>
<p>“Okay, we’ll bring her something from the cafeteria”, the older woman agreed, realising her son and daughter-in-law needed some space.</p>
<p>Zoe and Cesar headed towards the hospital cafeteria. On their way there, they passed by the nursery room where all the new-borns should be. Except… it was empty. Despite of all the information in the news, and what they witnessed at their own clinic, they weren’t prepared for such sight. How could the nursery of a large hospital, in a big metropolitan area, be completely empty?    </p>
<p>Feeling stunned, Zoe approached the nearest person in hospital uniform. “Excuse me, I don’t understand. Where are all the babies?”</p>
<p>The male nurse shook his head sadly. “Oh, we had a rough couple of days. Four babies went to the intensive care unit, and the others are with God”</p>
<p>Zoe clutched her husband’s hand, feeling terrified.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several hours passed by. The contractions kept getting stronger and closer together. As big drops of sweat fell from her forehead, Renee tried finding a position that would make her feel more comfortable, to no avail. She finally settled for standing, while holding on to Larry.</p>
<p>“The music”, she gasped, hoping for a distraction.</p>
<p>Larry looked at his mom, who had the playlist ready for whenever Renee requested it. And Renee’s pained grunts were soon mixed with the tunes of her favourite song.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the roads that lead you there were winding</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the lights that light the way are blinding</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Renee attempted to focus on the song, and the nice memories it brought. When they noticed she liked the music, Larry, his mother and stepfather began singing along to cheer her up.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I said, maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And, after all, you're my wonderwall</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I said, maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And, after all, you're my wonderwall</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I said maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the song died down, a translucid liquid flowed from Renee’s insides, with some of it ending in Larry’s shoes.</p>
<p>They rushed to get her doctor, a middle-aged male, who checked on the patient and soon announced: “10 centimetres. Time for the delivery room”  </p>
<p>Renee felt overwhelmed with fear again, and grabbed her husband’s hand, while being wheeled to a different room. What if all hope was taken away from them? “Larry, I’m not ready to see where the coin landed”</p>
<p>He kissed her head. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I love you”</p>
<p>Renee pushed as told, feeling her insides were being torn apart, while Larry tried to be comforting. “You’re doing great, darling. You’re amazing. I love you so much”</p>
<p>“I can’t. I can’t do it”, she cried, feeling overcome with pain and dread.</p>
<p>“Yes, you can, my love. You’re already doing it. You’re doing great”</p>
<p>The doctor then saw the baby crowning. “You’re doing a great job, Renee… just one final big push.”</p>
<p>Renee pushed harder than ever, and her baby was out of her body. The infant instantly cried as loudly as possible. The parents cried as well, feeling immensely relieved and overjoyed.</p>
<p>“Congratulations, you have a daughter!”, the doctor announced, unable to hide his own relief.  </p>
<p>In the past, the baby would have been placed in the mother’s arms before anything else. But the doctor was too anxious to check it was all as good as it seemed, and took the baby aside for a quick first examination. </p>
<p>Larry and Renee hugged and held their breaths, while watching the doctor and two nurses examine their baby. After a few minutes, that seemed endless, the doctor’s smile grew wide and he placed the baby in Renee’s arms, while saying: “Merry Christmas, mom and dad!”</p>
<p>“Oh, God, she’s so perfect”, Renee cried, as her baby slowly began to quiet down in her arms.</p>
<p>“The most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen”, Larry said choking up too, feeling marvelled. “And, you, Renee… you are my hero… I just love you so much”</p>
<p>They overheard the doctor giving a nurse information for the birth certificate: “20 inches, 7.5 pounds. December 25th, 12.34 am”.</p>
<p>“Do we have a name?”, the nurse then asked.</p>
<p>Renee looked at her child’s face, seeing a perfect combination of her and Larry… the fruit of their love, and her own strength. But, also, a fierce little girl who had already defied so many odds, and would need to be even stronger to face the world as a female. At that moment, the name flowed naturally from Renee’s lips. </p>
<p>“Zoe”, she said, much to Larry’s awe. “Zoe Abigail”</p>
<p>That way, the baby would bear the name of both grandmothers, two equally smart and strong women who couldn’t have been more different: Agent Zoe Moss, the first female to ever be in charge of Quantico, and Mrs. Abigail Walker, proud wife, mother and Catholic Church activist. </p>
<p>“Zoe Abigail Moss?”, the nurse asked.</p>
<p>“No… Zoe Abigail Moss-Walker”, Larry clarified in an instant.</p>
<p>Renee kissed him, feeling like the luckiest woman on earth.</p>
<p>After nursing the baby and introducing her to Big Zoe and Cesar, Renee was able to get some rest. When she woke up, it was dawn. Larry was holding a sleeping Zoey, while taking a look through the window. He seemed shocked by whatever was happening outside.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?”, Renee grew concerned.   </p>
<p>“Honey, you should see this”, he told her, with amazement.</p>
<p>She left the bed and got closer to the window. “Oh, my God”</p>
<p>It seemed like the dozens of Christians praying during their arrival had summoned others. Now twice as many people were holding a vigil outside the hospital and singing Christmas carols, under a soft snow. And they looked overjoyed, as if the news about a healthy birth had already spread among them, somehow.</p>
<p>“Look, Zoey…”, Larry whispered, getting emotional. The crowd scared Renee, but it reminded him of how precious and rare his child was. “They’re here because you’re our Christmas miracle”</p>
<p>With a strong sense of pride, Larry moved the curtain slightly and waved. Someone noticed him holding a pink bundle and waving happily from the hospital’s second floor. The crowd erupted in cheers, as he held a thumb up.  </p>
<p>Renee grew concerned by Larry’s enthusiasm. “Honey, you better not pull a Michael Jackson and dangle her out the window, I’d hate having to kill you on her birth day”  </p>
<p>Larry chuckled. “I guess I’m too excited”. He then put the baby in the bassinette and helped Renee get back in the bed. “How are you feeling, honey?”</p>
<p>“I’m starving”, she admitted.  </p>
<p>“Say no more. I’ll go get you real food. Hospital food sucks”, he kissed her deeply before leaving. </p>
<p>Zoey began crying, so Renee picked her up, feeling like the luckiest person on earth. She chuckled, noticing the baby was now dressed with the pink bodysuit Larry bought, which said ‘<em>Future President of the United States’</em>.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, angel. I messed up a lot, but I chose the best dad for you”</p>
<p>While cradling her baby in her arms, Renee began singing softly to her…</p>
<p>
  <em>I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the roads we have to walk are winding</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And all the lights that lead us there are blinding</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And after all, you're my wonderwall</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 30th, 2016</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Eastern District of Gilead, in the city formerly known as New York City</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The heavy rain came down unexpectedly as Renee returned from her daily walk to the market. The second she stepped into the house, she was surprised to find Bonnie and Rita, waiting for her with a big towel.</p>
<p>“Welcome back”, Rita eagerly took the shopping bags with a smirk, and headed towards the kitchen.  </p>
<p>“Here, OfAlan… we wouldn’t want you to catch a cold”, Bonnie took Renee’s damped red coat and gave her the towel. There was a twinkle of cautious excitement in her hazel eyes. “Lunch is ready. You should have some carrot soup. We made it just for you”   </p>
<p>“Thank you, Bonnie”, Renee mumbled, the other women’s extra-servile attitude was rather alarming. But she couldn’t put a finger on it.</p>
<p>Her entire body tensed when she saw Jack, getting coffee and eating a sandwich in the kitchen.</p>
<p>She had tried to ignore him as much as possible, since their one kiss. She still had mixed feelings about him. He presented himself as Wilson’s obedient lackey, a soldier of Gilead. But he was rebellious enough to kiss his Commander’s toy, to talk and flirt with her. She was baffled by him, and questioned his intentions. She also resented him for kissing her. Above all, she hated herself for kissing him back. She had enjoyed that kiss too much. She couldn’t get it off her mind, which gave her a whole new level of guilt. She had endured 80 ceremonies, with three different commanders. And, yet… that one kiss with Jack felt like the biggest betrayal to Larry’s memory. Her husband had been dead for 32 months, but enjoying a kiss with anyone else felt almost like… sacrilege.      </p>
<p>“Got caught in the rain?”, Jack asked her, with a casual tone. He knew it was a dumb question, given her coif and the auburn hair underneath were damped. But he just wanted to talk to her. She had hardly spoken to him since their kiss and seemed to be angry with him. He felt so stupid now.</p>
<p>‘<em>No, Jack. I was bathing outside, fully-clothed’</em>, she thought, sarcastically.</p>
<p>“Yes”, she answered, keeping her tone as cold and dry as possible. She noticed Rita putting away the groceries, while heating up a pot full of soup on the stove.</p>
<p>“You were away for a long time”, he pointed out, trying to sound casual.  </p>
<p>“Sometimes OfGraem and I walk back home by the river”, she shrugged, getting rather defensive, while taking her usual seat at the table.</p>
<p>“Do you walk all the way to Gantry Plaza?”, he asked.  </p>
<p>Then Rita gave Jack a baffled look, as if wondering: ‘<em>What on earth are you doing</em>?’. For him, trying to be social with a Handmaid, could end in death. Handmaids belonged only to their Commanders.  </p>
<p>“Yeah”, Renee nodded, visibly uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“The view from there is very pretty”, he commented, desperate to make some conversation.</p>
<p>“Lovely”, Renee mumbled, while thinking: ‘<em>It’d be nicer if the UN headquarters were still standing’</em>.</p>
<p>Rita brought to the table a bowl full of soup. “Oh, I almost forgot!”, she then said, suddenly giggling like a schoolgirl. She left and then returned with a bouquet of orange carnations in a vase. She placed them over the table, next to Renee, saying: “Mrs. Wilson cut them from her garden earlier, just for you”</p>
<p>‘<em>Oh, fuck…</em>’, Renee thought, suddenly figuring what was happening. People ‘pampering’ a handmaid only meant one thing. A horrifying suspicion haunted her. But, could it be…? This soon? She didn’t have any way of keeping track of her own cycles, since she couldn’t write anything down.</p>
<p>“That’s nice from her”, she babbled.</p>
<p>“I guess it’s for good luck. We’re all so hopeful”, Rita smiled. Renee still had a dumbfounded expression on her freckled face. But Rita felt uneasy discussing feminine matters in front Jack, so she whispered in Renee’s ear: “You haven’t asked for your pads yet. You’re two days late”</p>
<p>Even though he didn’t hear her, Jack could imagine what was happening. But he didn’t want to dwell on the potential repercussions of Renee being pregnant by Wilson. Above all, he didn’t want to deal with his own personal feelings about it.</p>
<p>He awkwardly excused himself, and left the room to continue with his duties.   </p>
<p>Renee didn’t even know how she felt about being late. Two days meant nothing. But, did she want it to mean nothing? Her desire to avoid the colonies sometimes overwhelmed her. She wanted to live, to be reunited with Zoey. She was willing to do anything for it. Anything, including having a baby with a despicable man and then being separated from such child. A Handmaid was allowed three ‘unfruitful’ postings, before being sent to The Colonies. This was her final posting and Gilead was still holding strong. So, maybe, she <em>needed</em> a pregnancy, to buy herself more time. <em>Should I feel hopeful too</em>?, she wondered.</p>
<p>Then, Sue Ellen Wilson appeared in the kitchen, with the biggest smile on her face. “Blessed day, OfAlan. How was your walk?”</p>
<p>“It was very pleasant, Mrs. Wilson. Thank you”, Renee mumbled.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen took a seat next to the handmaid, with expectation in her wide-open green eyes. “So, how are you feeling? Any nauseas? Are your breast feeling sore?”</p>
<p>“No. Not that I’ve noticed”, Renee admitted, with the casual tone of someone who had grown too accustomed to the most intrusive questions about her body.</p>
<p>“It’d be too early for any of that anyway”, Rita said dismissively, while picking up Jack’s dirty dishes.  </p>
<p>“Yeah”, Sue Ellen breathed out, trying to remain hopeful.</p>
<p>“Have you… Have you told The Commander…?”, Renee asked her, with a sheepish tone.</p>
<p>“Of course not”, Sue Ellen replied in an instant, getting emotional. “I don’t want to get his hopes up. It’s been his dream for so long”</p>
<p>“May the Lord will bring forth His miracle”, Renee muttered what was expected from her. She put her bowl of soup aside and got up, visibly uncomfortable. She now felt nauseas. But probably not for the reasons Sue Ellen prayed for. “I’m sorry. I should change. My clothes are still wet”</p>
<p>“OfAlan, don’t forget this”, Sue Ellen said, handing her the vase with the carnations.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson”</p>
<p>Renee noticed that the vase was made of plastic. Useless to break and then cut herself with a sharp edge. It didn’t surprise her, in the least. They wouldn’t want her to attempt the surest way to escape Gilead forever. She hated herself for even thinking about that escape.  </p>
<p>On the way to her bedroom, she ran into Jack. He made sure nobody else was nearby, and whispered: “The Commander wants to see you alone again, in his studio. Same time”  </p>
<p>“What does he want now?”, she asked, with palpable dread. Her only private conversation with Alan had been about Larry’s death. He had blamed the other members of the Committee for it. Just a pathetic attempt to make himself less detestable in Renee’s eyes. She was fearing what that awful man might say, ask, or do next. Did he know her period was late, after all?</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I’m sorry”, Jack replied. It was the most honest he could be with her, at the time. He had suspicions, but didn’t know how to explain everything to her, or how much he should trust her. And they couldn’t have any real talk in the living room, in the middle of the day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Exactly at 9 pm, she knocked on the door of Alan’s home office. Just like the time before, Renee was haunted by the feeling of heading for an obvious trap.</p>
<p>“Come in”, ordered the commander. He smiled, only slightly, when Renee walked in. “Hello”</p>
<p>Alan was standing by the chimney, leaning casually on it, with a file on his hand. Renee got the odd feeling that he had indeed rehearsed such pose and carefully planned where to stand when she walked into his private sanctuary. It was so strange.</p>
<p>“Hi”. She looked at him in the eye, remembering he’d liked that during their last secret meeting.</p>
<p>“Sit down”, he gestured towards a small green sofa, in front of a coffee table, in the middle of the room. After a brief pause, he remembered to add: “please”.</p>
<p>She sat on the sofa, making a big effort to look away from the books. The library taking over most of the walls was too damn tempting. She was itching to, at least, look at the covers and smell the pages, even if she wasn’t allowed to read them. But she forced her gaze back to the Commander.</p>
<p>“I know this is be very…. unorthodox”, Alan pointed out, remembering the word Renee had used during their first private meeting. “But I’d like to play a game with you”</p>
<p>“A game?”. She raised her eyebrows. She didn’t like the sound of that, at all. ‘<em>A game</em>’ could be code for anything. What would he ask from her?</p>
<p>Much to her shock, he took a wooden box from his desk drawer. It was a fancy chess set. She watched, dumfounded, as he got the board and the pieces settled over the coffee table.</p>
<p>Chess had been banned by The Sons of Jacob soon after the takeover. It was too intellectual, too mentally stimulating. And the most powerful piece was <em>the Queen</em>. Indeed, Chess had also been banned in Iran from 1979 to 1988. The Sons of Jacob were not that different than Iranian Ayatollahs. So, why Wilson wanted to play chess with her? Was it some sort of trick? She was beginning to suspect he was not like his fellow ‘Commanders of the Faithful’.</p>
<p>“I know you were in your chess club, in high school”, Alan commented, as he settled the pieces. “I figured you might enjoy playing again”</p>
<p>“You know everything about me?”, she asked without thinking. She then realized it was a stupid question. He ruled a totalitarian state. He could find out anything about, pretty much, anybody. Except, he didn’t know her period was late. The women in his household were keeping a big secret from the almighty commander. She was oddly enjoying being a part of that.</p>
<p>“Only what’s on paper”, he brushed off, attempting to sound casual. “Straight A student, member of the chess club and the swimming team, went to college on a swimming scholarship. Graduated from Columbia and NYU. Fluent in Russian, German and Irish” </p>
<p>“That’s right”, she attempted to sound approving. She could tell he was trying to impress her, for some strange reason, by showing off his knowledge of her.</p>
<p>Alan concealed a white pawn and a black one in each of his hands, without showing her, and then made her choose a hand. She chose the left hand, and he opened it, revealing the black pawn.</p>
<p>“Looks like I get to start”, Alan tried not to sound too smug, but failed. He went for the Queen’s Pawn opening, establishing aggressive dominance of the centre of the board.</p>
<p>“Good opening, sir”, Renee babbled awkwardly, unsure of how formal she had to be. It felt too bizarre. That man had literally been inside her, she could be carrying his child, and they were playing forbidden chess. Yet, she hadn’t forgotten her place in his household. As much as she detested it.</p>
<p>“Good opening, <em>sir</em>?”, he mocked, with a chuckle, finding the situation rather absurd too. “It’s okay. When you’re in this room, and it’s just you and me, you can call me Alan”</p>
<p>“All right, Alan”, she humoured him, feeling surprised. He appeared to be trying to stablish some sort of relationship between them… as strange as that was.</p>
<p>She moved her pawn to D.5., giving a typical response to his opening.</p>
<p>“Who taught you how to play?”, he asked, trying to make conversation.</p>
<p>“My dad. We used to play a lot”. She wondered if he was expecting her to take interest and ask him mundane questions, like they were two normal people. She asked tentatively: “And you? Did you play with your father too?”  </p>
<p>Alan chuckled. “God, no… my dad thought all my spare time was best spent at the country club, playing golf, making important connections” His eyes suddenly seemed sadder. “I taught myself to play chess when I met Sue Ellen, in high school. She was also in the chess club”</p>
<p>“I see”, Renee forced herself to smile. She resented the Wilsons for being together since high school very deeply. She and Larry had only gotten less than five years of happiness, while the war criminals had gotten at least three decades, and still counting. It was a categorical injustice. But she managed to keep up the friendly charade. “So nice that you’ve been together all these years”</p>
<p>“We were never apart”, Alan bragged, just as he would if talking with any regular person.</p>
<p>Renee noticed he wasn’t trying to be cruel, or hurt her, by rubbing such fact on her face. He was simply oblivious to her emotions. As if he didn’t consider how those words might affect her, coming from a man responsible for Larry’s murder. She had studied a lot about anti-social personality disorders… criminals struggling to comprehend complex human emotions, foreign to them. She had also observed clear sociopathic behaviour, up close, in Vladimir Laitanan. Yet, Alan showed even less empathy, less remorse… And he seemed way more cold-headed, so meticulous… Unlike anybody she had ever dealt with before. It was almost fascinating to watch.   </p>
<p>“We even went to Yale together”, he added.</p>
<p>“Yale?”, Renee raised her eyebrows, failing to mask her surprise. She knew that Sue Ellen used to be a corporate lawyer, but had no idea the Wilsons had graduated from Yale University.  </p>
<p>“I bet you were expecting some Christian college in the South or the Midwest, weren’t you?”, Alan let out a smug chuckle. Everyone had made the same mistake, since his alliance with The Sons of Jacob. But religion was never a part of his life, until The Sons of Jacob promised him a baby of his own blood… the only thing his unmeasurable money, and power, had failed to give him.</p>
<p>“Or Liberty University”, Renee admitted, with a soft, timid voice. Reading his facial expressions was proving difficult. If Alan felt insulted by her wrong assumption, he didn’t show it. “I’m sorry”</p>
<p>“It’s okay”, he reassured her. “It’s an understandable assumption”</p>
<p>They kept playing, until Renee lost the game. Then she detected a hint of true joy in Alan’s eyes. She realized letting him win had been the right choice… this time. </p>
<p>“You’re very good”, the Commander noted. “But you didn’t castle soon enough to protect your king”  </p>
<p>Renee’s features darkened for an instant. Yet, the ironic similarity between the error Alan saw in her game, and the fatal error in her real life, seemed completely lost in him.    </p>
<p>“I’m rusty”, she then shrugged, trying to sound humble.</p>
<p>“Then we should do this often”, he suggested, “I’ll be out of town for a few days, but, maybe when I come back?”</p>
<p>“I’ll check my schedule”, she sarcastic remark poured from her lips so naturally, as sarcasm often did. But she instantly regretted it. She recalled many of Vladimir’s violent episodes being triggered by her own sassing. Feeling alarmed, she looked at Alan. Had she gone too far? The Commander just stared at her silently for a few seconds, appearing just slightly surprised. Then he looked down while slowly putting the pieces back in the box… as if trying hard to think of a witty comeback of his own. </p>
<p>“Well, see if you can… squeeze me in”, he finally said.</p>
<p>She found those words, and his tone, troubling. It didn’t bode her well. But she somewhat managed to appear unfazed. </p>
<p>“So, out of town? Where are you going?”, she tried to sound casual, like it was normal chatter. He appeared to like, oddly, the charade of them conversing like friends. She had no idea why. But going along seemed wise. She knew there was a limit to it, though, and she had to tread lightly.</p>
<p>“Nothing exciting. Just some meetings in D.C.”</p>
<p>“We’ll have a rematch when you get back, then”</p>
<p>Again, he looked at her silently, but intensively, for a few seconds, as if trying to figure her out.</p>
<p>“It’s a date”, he stated, pleased by her overall behaviour during this clandestine meeting. He hadn’t forgotten her hurtful comment from the one before. But she appeared to know her place now, which he appreciated. “Now you have to go back to your room”</p>
<p>He walked her to the door and shook her hand, holding it for longer than normal. “Good night”</p>
<p>“Good night”, she replied.</p>
<p>It was a strange situation for both of them. He had been inside body her three times. Yet, this was the most intimate they had ever been. Just for a second, it seemed like he wanted to kiss her. But he didn’t, much to Renee’s relief.</p>
<p>When she left the studio, she wasn’t surprised to find Jack still there. He had been guarding the hallway, in case somebody woke up. He escorted her to the first floor, till they reached her bedroom door, without showing any emotion or saying a word. Just a guy doing his job.</p>
<p>She wondered if Jack knew what had just happened inside Wilson’s office. Did he know they had only played chess? Or was his imagination running wild? Was his mind being haunted by images of a cheap porn movie starring Alan Wilson and <em>OfAlan</em>? Did Jack even care? Impossible to tell. More importantly: did she want him to care? She didn’t know that either.</p>
<p>As she reached for the doorknob, Jack placed his hand over hers and his green eyes then showed deep concern. “Will you be okay?”</p>
<p>“Good night, Jack”, was her brusque answer, before shutting her bedroom door in his face.</p>
<p>Truth be told, she didn’t know if she’d ever be okay. She was too aware of the fact that Alan could have demanded anything from her inside that studio, literally anything. She wouldn’t have been able to refuse. Unless she was actually pregnant, he could have any part of her body chopped off, or have her sent to the colonies, if she displeased him. Granted, he would need a valid excuse. But framing her for a crime would be easy for a Commander. She couldn’t even threaten to report their secret meetings. Who would believe a handmaid? And he didn’t seem worried, at all, about the possibility of Jack acting as her witness. Alan Wilson acted like a man who owned everything and everybody, who considered himself invincible. She found that so damn exasperating. </p>
<p>That night, Renee fell asleep fantasising about what she would do in different circumstances. What If it was just her and Alan Wilson in a room, but <em>she</em> was the one in control? What if she had nothing of value left to lose, no daughter to think about? She pictured all the ways she could hurt him, if she didn’t care about the consequences.</p>
<p>He was a male, but she was very strong and well-trained. She could beat him up. He was no Vladimir Laitanan, who went to the gym and was used to physical violence. Alan was physically weak, and had likely never fought anyone in his entire life. No shape. No experience. She could cause a lot of damage to him. She could cause him more pain than he imagined.</p>
<p>First, there was the obvious way to make a man suffer greatly… hurting his most vulnerable area. Once weakened, on the floor, she could break his ribs kicking hard in the right spots. Break each of his fingers. Break his teeth. Break his ridiculous nose with a punch.</p>
<p>She pictured Alan’s face all bruised and bloodied. She imagined him screaming in pain. </p>
<p><em>Wouldn’t that be lovely</em>?, she thought, as she drifted off.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>May 31st, 2016</strong>
</p>
<p>Shortly before dawn, the entire household was awakened by loud sirens.</p>
<p>“OfAlan, It’s the birth-mobile!”, Bonnie announced, bursting into Renee’s bedroom.</p>
<p>Renee left her bed in a haste. She washed up, got dressed and pinned up her hair. The birth-mobile? That meant a red ambulance was about to pick her up to witness a birth in the district. A fellow Handmaid was in labour. It had to be Penny, since nobody else was as close to their due date.</p>
<p>Bonnie then covered Renee’s updo with the white coif and the large bonnet on top. She then held the Handmaid’s hands, promising: “I’ll pray for good news”</p>
<p>Outside the manor, Sue Ellen was already fully dressed, getting inside a fancy blue van that collected all the wives in the vicinity, so they could attend the birth as well.</p>
<p>Renee climbed into the back of the red ‘birth-mobile’, with capacity for ten handmaids. Four women in red were already there. She chose a seat next to Emily.</p>
<p>The woman known to them as <em>OfJonas</em>, seemed lost in fervent prayer.</p>
<p>An annoyingly perky Handmaid, known as <em>OfBrian</em>, reached out her mutilated hand, to clutch Renee’s, with excitement and tears in her greyish eyes. “A baby! Isn’t it wonderful? Wonderful!”    </p>
<p>“Is it <em>OfTrevor</em>?”, Renee asked her, to confirm. </p>
<p>“Yes. Praised be!”, <em>OfBrian </em>replied. She then tried to reassure the others, “Everything will be fine” </p>
<p>Her fellow Handmaids weren’t as reassured. They were wondering the same thing: What if Peggy had an <em>Unbaby</em>? Any baby born with any physical defect was declared an ‘<em>Unbaby</em>’ and taken to something called ‘<em>the shredder’</em>. Nobody wanted to know what that actually meant. Renee figured it was like a gas chamber. It was painfully ironic how The Sons of Jacob had stopped women from aborting babies with genetic defects, only so those babies could be killed after birth.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They picked up more handmaids, and then they arrived to Trevor O’Niel’s house. Another red van, and two blue vans were already parked in the driveway.</p>
<p>As she stepped into the foyer of the house, Renee saw three <em>Marthas</em> setting up a big feast for the wives, in the main dining room. There were sandwiches, big cakes, fruit and macaroon cookies. The wives were even allowed champagne, on such a special occasion. She could see the bottles with blank golden labels. She also smelled deliciously strong coffee, like the Italian one Mama-Zoe used to bring from Europe. Good coffee was a rarity inside Gilead, even for wives and Commanders. Everyone was stuck with cheap instant coffee. But this joyful day called for the finest things.      </p>
<p>“They’re having real coffee, I can smell it”, Renee whispered at <em>OfJonas</em>, as they put their big bonnets on a round table assigned for that purpose.  </p>
<p>“We do all the work, and they pig out”, <em>OfJonas</em> whispered back, with a resigned sigh. She was relieved when the red-haired Handmaid smiled, showing sympathy.   </p>
<p>Then, Renee peeped from behind a half-closed door inside the adjoining living room. In there, at least twelve wives were gathered for what she considered to be Gilead’s most ridiculous ritual… in a big collection of absurd rituals.   </p>
<p>Lynnette O’Niel was lying on the floor, supported by several pillows, wearing her nightgown, and pretending to be in labour. She was panting, groaning and holding her own flat and empty tummy, as if feeling strong pain. In the eyes of Gilead, she was the one having a baby and was required to act like it. And she was acting like aiming for an Academy Award. For a second, Renee wondered if Gilead’s indoctrination made the wife’s pain real, somehow.  </p>
<p>All the other wives played their parts too, showing different levels of enthusiasm. Sue Ellen held Lynnette’s hand, stroking her head lovingly and saying: “You’re doing great”.</p>
<p>“We’re right here with you, dear”, Daphne Hodges said, while wiping non-existent sweat from Lynnette’s forehead.</p>
<p>“Just breathe, breathe, dear”, an elderly woman in a dark purple dress massaged Lynette’s foot.</p>
<p>A purple dress meant that woman was the widow of a very important man. Renee guessed she was either Lynette’s mother, or mother-in-law.  </p>
<p>Meanwhile, an absurdly young blond-haired wife played the harp.</p>
<p>‘<em>Sorry, no Oasis for you, Mrs. O’Niel’</em>, Renee thought, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.</p>
<p>Other wives were standing around, drinking coffee or eating. Renee recognised a wife with shiny black hair and big blue eyes: Marilyn Bauer.</p>
<p>Marilyn sipped some coffee with a bored expression, and half-hearty told Lynette: “Breathe, honey”, as if thinking: <em>‘I can’t believe these freaks are my friends now’</em>.   </p>
<p>Then Marilyn noticed Renee behind the half-opened door, and their eyes met for only two seconds. The wife instantly looked away, as if haunted by <em>OfAlan</em>’s presence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before she could get in trouble for prying, Renee rushed upstairs and searched for the main bedroom, where the real birth was taking place. Penny was lying on the commander’s bed, genuinely tired and pained.</p>
<p>Ten women in red dresses surrounded the bed, chanting: “Breathe… Breathe… Breathe… Hold… Hold… Hold… Exhale… Exhale… Exhale…”</p>
<p>Two Aunts were in the room supervising the birth, and leading the chants. One of them was a black-skinned woman in her late-30’s, called Aunt Kristen. The other aunt present was, predictably, the new head-aunt of the Eastern District: Carla Moss. Both of them had been trained as midwives after taking the brown dress.</p>
<p>“Four centimetres”, Carla informed her colleague, and then smiled at the handmaid in labour. “Don’t worry. It’s going slowly, but you’re doing well, <em>OfTrevor</em>. Good job”.</p>
<p>“Again, girls”, Kristen gestured for the handmaids to keep chanting.</p>
<p>“Breathe… Breathe… Breathe… Hold… Hold… Hold… Exhale… Exhale… Exhale…”</p>
<p>Renee approached the bed with certain trepidation, given that ‘Aunt Carla’ had a personal vendetta against her. But when they locked eyes for an instant, Carla just nodded, with the tiniest smile. Then the blonde aunt focused back on her important job, acting like a true professional.</p>
<p>So, Renee rushed to massage Penny’s pained back, assuring her fellow handmaid: “You’re doing great. We’re here for you”</p>
<p>Watching Penny’s rounded face teary and contorted by pain, made Renee think about ‘confession time’ during their training days. It made her think of Penny, merely a day after being mutilated by the Aunts, melting down in sobs.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I didn’t know it was a bad thing’, Penny cried defensively, with a hand over the blood-stained bandage covering where her ear had once been. ‘I… I really needed money for college and my mom’s medical bills. And that couple needed a baby. I thought it was okay’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Aunt Lydia looked at her with disgust. ‘You thought having a child for a couple of gender traitors was okay? That was a grave sin’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Sinner… sinner… sinner’, her fellow handmaids-in-training chanted, with their accusing fingers pointed at a sobbing Penny.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Even worse…’, Aunt Lydia carried on. ‘That baby was made in a godless lab. To make that one child, many others got destroyed in the process. That makes you a baby killer’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘baby killer… baby killer… baby killer’, the other girls were forced to chant, to avoid punishment.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I’m so sorry’, Penny cried out. ‘I’m so so sorry’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Watching Penny dissolve into a babbling puddle of tears, Renee noticed something interesting happening… right at that second, she actually hated that girl. She hated the weakness, the ugly crying… she hated knowing that, at any time, it could be her.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Ugh, Penny, don’t be a cry baby’, Aunt Lydia scolded the younger woman with disdain, as if the Aunt could read what every other person in the room was thinking.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Cry baby! Cry Baby! Cry baby!’, the other girls mocked angrily, their accusing fingers aimed at Penny. And, that time… Renee meant it.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few hours after everyone arrived to the manor, Penny’s birth was still progressing at glacier pace. Several Handmaids kept uselessly chanting for her to ‘Breathe… Hold… Exhale…’.</p>
<p>Since the bedroom was too crowded, Aunt Kristen decided that a few Handmaids should help the <em>Marthas</em> tidy up and serve the wives. Renee was happy to volunteer for such task, because watching Penny experiencing contractions kept stirring too many memories. And it offered a terrifying glimpse of what could be her own future. Giving birth to a baby that she wouldn’t be allowed to keep, from a man she despised, surrounded by a circus of women in red dresses chanting… while women in teal-green dresses coddled Mrs. Wilson.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to even think about that. So, she rushed downstairs, collected a few used coffee mugs, and took them to the kitchen.</p>
<p>Emily was already there, getting a sandwich from the less-fancy buffet table set for Handmaids. She offered a plastic cup full of orange juice to her shopping partner.</p>
<p>“Thanks”, Renee accepted the cup and had a little sip. It tasted a little bit funny.</p>
<p>“Someone turned our juice into mimosas. Praised be”, Emily whispered, chuckling softly. They could get away with things like that during a birth. All eyes were on the woman in labour, and the wife who’d get the baby. And even the Aunts were willing to overlook minor transgressions during such a special time, since everyone was too ecstatic to care.</p>
<p>“Praised be”, Renee chuckled, glad to see a glimpse of the real Emily. She figured drinking would make the day more bearable and was about to drink more spiked juice, but then she remembered… she was three days late. Reluctantly, she handed the cup back to Emily. “Actually, I shouldn’t…”      </p>
<p>‘<em>Oh, shit. Already</em>?’, Emily thought to herself, as the realisation dawned her. Nobody wanted to end up in the Colonies, but, still… a baby in their situation? Anyone feel ambivalent about it, to say the least… unless they were batshit crazy.</p>
<p>“Oh, you sure…?”, she asked, with concern.</p>
<p>Renee shook her head. “Only three days late”</p>
<p>There was nothing Emily could say that was ‘<em>reassuring</em>’ or constructive in any way. So, she finished drinking the spiked juice like it was one shot of tequila.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen then entered the kitchen, looking for her Handmaid. “OfAlan, what are you doing?”</p>
<p>“I’m just helping, Mrs. Wilson”, Renee replied.</p>
<p>“Well, leave it”, Sue Ellen ordered, sounding impatient. “Come with me”.</p>
<p>Renee reluctantly followed the wife to the main dining room, where Marilyn Bauer and Daphne Hodges were having coffee, and eating macaroon cookies. It seemed like the most powerful wives in the district were taking a brief break from the whole charade.   </p>
<p>“So, OfAlan, what’s going on up there?”, Sue Ellen asked, getting some coffee for herself.</p>
<p>“The contractions are getting closer together. But she’s still not fully dilated”, Renee explained.</p>
<p>“This is taking forever”, Marilyn moaned, rolling her eyes. She was haunted by memories of Josh’s birth. She missed him dearly. All she had in life now was her adopted daughter. She was eager to go back home and see her. She had never needed a ridiculous ritual to love Little Prissy. She didn’t get why other wives couldn’t take the babies born from the Handmaids without making such a big sad spectacle of themselves, in front of the entire district.</p>
<p>“Is it breech, dear?”, Daphne Hodges asked, with a condescending tone. “Did you hear that word?” </p>
<p>“No, ma’am”, Renee replied.</p>
<p>“Oh, well…”, Daphne sighed, with resignation. She remembered being in labour for twenty hours, nearly forty years before. Her daughter was now living in a different district, married to a commander. “We’ll have to be patient, then. Won’t we?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am”, Renee agreed.</p>
<p>“Do you want a cookie, dear?”, Daphne offered her. She was pleased by OfAlan’s manners and felt such good behaviour should be rewarded, like one would reward a dog.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t spoil them. Sugar is bad for them”, Marilyn objected in a heartbeat, as if they were talking of a toddler.</p>
<p>“Oh, surely one won’t hurt. It’s a special day”, the oldest wife argued.</p>
<p>Then both wives turned to look at Sue Ellen, searching for a verdict. It made Sue Ellen feel really good. It was hitting her that, out of the four women in the conversation, she was the only one who had never, ever, been pregnant. But she was the one deciding whether Renee got a treat or not. That was, at least, something to cling on to.</p>
<p>“OfAlan, would you like a cookie?”, Sue Ellen offered. She was smart enough to know a cookie wouldn’t hurt any potential baby. And she also believed that rewarding a handmaid for acting properly was as important as punishing insolence.</p>
<p>All Renee wanted was to snatch the heavy silver jar on the table and hit Sue Ellen’s blonde head repeatedly with it. Perhaps the coffee inside the jar was still piping hot…</p>
<p>“Yes, please. Thank you”, she said instead, and her voice sounded steady enough.</p>
<p>Sue Ellen took an orange cookie from the colourful tower of macaroons, with a smug expression, and handed it to her saying: “Here you are”.</p>
<p>The wife’s tone and green eyes sent a very clear message: <em>‘I’m choosing to be nice now, but you better be thankful and watch out… I can as easily choose cruelty’</em> </p>
<p>Renee stepped forward, took the cookie and gave it a bite. She fantasised about forcing whole tower of cookies down Sue Ellen’s throat, making her choke with them. She imagined Sue Ellen’s face becoming as blue as the tablecloth. </p>
<p>“Aw, isn’t she well-behaved?”, Daphne praised, although her tone was rather sarcastic.   </p>
<p>“You can go now”, Sue Ellen ordered.</p>
<p>Without saying a word, with half the macaroon still melting in her mouth, Renee turned around and walked away.</p>
<p>“Little whores, all of them”, Marilyn affirmed, like trying to convince herself of such fact.</p>
<p>“At least yours doesn’t have a history of corrupting husbands”, the blonde wife commented with a soft whisper. It wasn’t the type of thing she should be saying openly.</p>
<p>“You have to take what they hand out”, Daphne pointed out, sounding defeated.</p>
<p>The other two wives exchanged an exasperated look, knowing they were about to endure another one of Daphne’s typical tirades about how ugly <em>OfJonas</em> was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Renee barged inside the nearest bathroom. The half-cookie still in her mouth made her feel sick. She was repulsed by those people, and disgusted by herself for letting them treat her like a dog.  She spitted out the half-cookie inside the toilet, and threw away the rest of it as well. Then she rinsed her mouth, hoping to get rid of the sweet taste of the macaroon.</p>
<p>She looked at herself in the mirror for the first time in what felt like ages. Her own bedroom and bathroom didn’t have mirrors, so she didn’t get many chances to see her own reflection. She barely looked like herself. But, at least, she hadn’t eaten the cookie. That had to mean her real self was still there, somewhere, underneath the white coif…</p>
<p>She headed upstairs determined to, at least, offer poor Penny some support and kindness. On her way there, as she walked down the hallway, she heard someone sobbing softly inside a different room. She opened the door and saw <em>OfJonas</em>, who was crying by herself in what looked like the frugal bedroom of one of the <em>Marthas</em>.</p>
<p>The brown-haired Handmaid was sitting on the floor, crying with her knees against her chest. She was startled as the door opened. She jumped on her feet, terrified. “I’m sorry…”, she tried to calm down and wipe her own tears. “I just needed…”</p>
<p>“I know”, Renee assured her, with a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. I won’t tell”</p>
<p>“I miss my babies so much”, <em>OfJonas </em>admitted, relieved to find someone who appeared trustworthy. She broke down crying again, and collapsed into the other woman’s arms.</p>
<p>“I know you do. We all do”, Renee whispered, embracing <em>OfJonas </em>while trying to muffle the sound of the crying. “But we need to stay strong and alive for them, okay?”</p>
<p>“I can’t… I can’t just watch them take that baby away from her”, the woman shook her head.</p>
<p>Renee didn’t know words that could offer some real comfort in this situation. So, she settled for saying: “But she needs her people there. She needs to know she’s not alone. Today is all about her, not about us”.</p>
<p>“You’re right”, her fellow Handmaid agreed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The day eventually turned into night. The birth continued progressing, slowly but surely.</p>
<p>Penny was now sweating more than ever, and grew increasingly restless. No position was good enough to alleviate her suffering. She settled for kneeling on the bed, as OfJonas massaged her back. Not knowing what else to do, Renee cleaned up the sweat from Penny’s forehead and stroke her brownish curls.</p>
<p>“Breathe… breathe…”, all the handmaids in the room repeated wearily.</p>
<p>“Girls, more energy!”, Aunt Carla scolded the handmaids, who seemed no longer committed to the chanting. They were approaching the moment of the truth, and it was her responsibility to make sure the birth went well. “Let God feel your devotion, and He <em>will</em> reward us”.</p>
<p>As Carla and Kristen led them, the handmaids tried to chant with more enthusiasm. “Breathe… Hold… Hold… Hold… Exhale… Exhale… Exhale…”</p>
<p>“Good girl, <em>OfTrevor</em>, good girl”, Carla praised. “You’re doing so well. We’re proud of you”</p>
<p>“I need to walk”, Penny then cried with desperation.</p>
<p>“Okay. Stretch your legs a bit”, Carla agreed in a heartbeat. “Girls, help her, come on…”</p>
<p>Renee and <em>OfJonas</em> helped Penny leave the bed and take a few steps.</p>
<p>Penny attempted to walk towards the bathroom, feeling the urge to use the toilet, but she was hit by the worst contraction yet, and couldn’t even move anymore. She winded up soiling the fancy rug.</p>
<p>Then they all knew she was in the transition stage of the birth.</p>
<p>“Get her to the chair”, Carla ordered solemnly, looking at Renee and OfJonas. She then shouted at Emily. “OfGraem, Go tell them it’s time”</p>
<p>They led Penny to a birthing stool, which had two seats: one at the bottom for the handmaid, and one on top for the wife. </p>
<p>“It’s time to push!”, Carla announced, as Penny took her place on the stool. “Push… push…”</p>
<p>“Push… push… push… breathe… breathe… breathe…”, the handmaids chanted.</p>
<p>Soon, Lynette O’Niel was brought into the room. With unnecessary assistance from her friends, she took her position on the top seat of the birthing chair, and mimicked each of Penny’s noises and moves. Now the wife seemed slightly self-conscious while acting. As if she was aware that all those women in red dresses secretly judged her as an evil lunatic.  </p>
<p>Finally, a baby emerged from inside Penny’s body, into Carla’s arms.</p>
<p>Time seemed to stop while both Aunts examined the infant. Not a sound could be heard.</p>
<p>Only collective breath being held and silent prayers being said.   </p>
<p>Until, mercifully… the sound of a crying infant filled the room.</p>
<p>“A fine and healthy boy”, Carla declared, with tears of relief in her eyes.</p>
<p>For an instant, every woman in that crowded bedroom was united by the same feeling of joy. Just for a second, there were no handmaids, no wives, no aunts… Nobody was a master, and nobody was a slave. There were no fertile and no barren among them… All of them were just women witnessing a miracle, marvelling at the might of the female body, celebrating the triumph of life vs. death.</p>
<p>But that moment passed too quickly.</p>
<p>They all were brusquely reminded of their positions when Lynette got settled inside the bed, and was handed the crying baby.   </p>
<p>“He’s so perfect”, she said, with a triumphant smile. The baby looked like a trophy in her arms.     </p>
<p>“So beautiful, Lynnie!”, Sue Ellen praised, visibly moved. She and Lynette had been best friends since college. They had gone through everything together. Just like Alan, Trevor had also been diagnosed with some unexplained sterility back then. But God had worked a miracle. Right then, any doubt Sue Ellen had ever felt about Gilead went off the window. If it worked for her friend, it would work for her and Alan too. Maybe soon.   </p>
<p>“Have you chosen a name?”, Daphne Hodges asked.</p>
<p>“Elijah”, Lynette replied with pride, cooing at the gorgeous baby boy, as he settled down</p>
<p>Penny watched helplessly and broke down in loud sobs.</p>
<p>Renee rushed to hold her, with <em>OfJonas</em> and Emily following suit. Soon, every Handmaid in the room was united in a collective embrace, shielding a crying Penny. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the red birthmobile drove the Handmaids back to their respective households, none of them said a word. They all felt too exhausted, and too depressed. Only the sound of <em>OfJonas </em>sobbing softly filled the back of the van. Renee silently held her hand.</p>
<p>Now Penny, at least, was safe from the colonies. She still had to follow the rules and keep having ceremonies, till menopause. But whether she succeeded again or not, she would never be declared an <em>Unwoman</em>, unless she did something heinous. After menopause, she’d get to spend the rest of her life in comfortable retirement. Such was Gilead’s promise for fruitful, and obedient, Handmaids.</p>
<p>There was no way of knowing if that was even true, though. No Handmaid had gotten to that point… yet. Renee often wondered… Was the regime planning on keeping such promise? How would retirement life for a handmaid would be like? Had anyone thought that far ahead while creating the system? Would Gilead even last that long? It horrified her to think that it might. Her sanity depended on believing the regime would fall soon. But, what if it didn’t? What if it never did?</p>
<p>Right then, being safe from the colonies didn’t feel like such a reward. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The red van arrived at Commander Wilson’s manor and a guardian silently escorted Renee to the main gates. A boyish-looking guardian called Hayden, who watched the manor at night, greeted them in the typical Gilead fashion, and allowed her in. The other soldier then left, satisfied that the Handmaid was back inside her cage.</p>
<p>Hayden then opened the front door for her with a timid: “Have a blessed night”.  </p>
<p>She took off her white bonnet and put it over the side table, by the door.  </p>
<p>“Hey”</p>
<p>She turned around to face Jack. It seemed he was in the foyer, just waiting for her arrival. “Hey”, she whispered back, growing tense. “I thought you were already in DC, with The Commander”</p>
<p>“He leaves in the morning”, Jack corrected her. “I won’t be going with him, this time”. Renee barely nodded, and made her way to her own bedroom. He walked along with her. Since everyone else inside the house was already asleep, it was a good opportunity to try to talk to her. He just wasn’t sure how to start, or what to say. “How was the birth?”</p>
<p>“A fine and healthy boy”, she replied, mimicking Carla’s words. Except Renee’s tone was full of bitterness. “a boy”, she repeated with a sad sigh, almost to herself. Then she bit her lower lip before saying the wrong thing in front of Jack. She still didn’t trust him. </p>
<p>But Jack imagined what she was thinking: a boy of Gilead… a future Commander, a future oppressor, a future rapist. She wasn’t wrong. That baby had arrived to the world all pure and innocent, but the regime would poison his mind and soul. Jack was determined not to let Gilead last that long. But he wasn’t ready to tell Renee as much, just yet.</p>
<p>“Blessed night, Jack”, she said rather coldly, as retreating into her bedroom. </p>
<p>She took off her coif and finally let her hair loose. Then she was startled by two knocks on her door.</p>
<p>“Can we have a real talk, please?”, Jack whispered hastily, praying that nobody would see him.</p>
<p>She allowed him inside, so they wouldn’t get caught talking in her doorstep. She didn’t want to talk to him. But, after a whole day of witnessing a birth, she didn’t have energy left to fight him. </p>
<p>“What do you want, Jack?”, she asked him, bluntly. Her arms were folded across her chest and her stare was icy. She stood far away from him. Their kiss had been a dangerous mistake. She couldn’t let anything like that happen again.</p>
<p>“I wanted to apologise to you”, he said, keeping his voice low.</p>
<p>“Apologise?” Renee’s eyes narrowed with confusion and distrust. </p>
<p>“Yeah. I never meant to upset you. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m so sorry”, he whispered. Renee stared back at him, blinking rapidly, too stunned to say a word. He realised that, in her current circumstances, a man apologising over a kiss felt bizarre to her. “You thought I was going to report you, remember? I just thought that if I kissed you…”</p>
<p>“I remember”, she finally spoke, trying to recover from the surprise. “It was still wrong. We can’t do anything like that”</p>
<p>“I know”, he agreed, trying not to look hurt or disappointed. “I’m sorry”</p>
<p>“So, you’re risking getting caught in my room, just to apologise to me?”, she stared at him with distrust. She still couldn’t figure him out, and it made her nervous.</p>
<p>“I guess so”, he conceded, feeling now a little foolish. Except Renee didn’t know that getting along with her was crucial for his cause. He had to remind himself that she was <em>only </em>important for the cause, not to him personally. </p>
<p>“Who are you, Jack? Really?”, she asked, with her suspicious blue eyes nailed in his. God, how she wished for the ability to read minds. She then got a bit closer to him. “Why does it matter to you if I think you’ll report me? Why does it matter what I think, at all? We are strangers. I don’t know your last name, and you don’t even know my name. I’m just OfAlan to you”  </p>
<p>“That’s not true”, he admitted, softly, with a lot of hesitation. He wondered if it was time to tell her the truth. Strangely, he felt like he could trust her. “You’re Renee Walker”</p>
<p>She startled at the sound of her own name. She hadn’t heard it in a long time. Not since she had been in-between commanders.</p>
<p>“You know my name?”, she was astonished.</p>
<p>“I also know you changed it to Walker-Moss in 2010… You and your husband were FBI agents. He was killed during the law enforcement purges. You have a daughter called Zoey”</p>
<p>There was no way someone in Jack’s position would know all that, unless… Renee instantly stepped further away from him, gasping in horror. “Jack, are you an Eye?”</p>
<p>“It’s more complicated than that”, he replied, with a sigh. He still wasn’t sure just how much to tell Renee. How much was she ready to hear?</p>
<p>“That’s not a no”, she pointed out, trembling slightly. Jack remained silent. “I don’t understand, then”. She paced around the bedroom, with palpable frustration. She had millions of questions for him. She blurted out the first one that came to mind. “If you are an Eye, how come you never reported Wilson for meeting me in his studio?”</p>
<p>“Watching one commander lose an arm, or get executed, is not my main goal”</p>
<p>Renee was puzzled by that answer. If seeing Wilson get executed wasn’t Jack’s main goal… what was? The Eyes’s main objective was to ‘<em>clean up Gilead’</em>, to keep everyone in line, even Commanders. A genuine member of The Eyes would have reported Wilson’s activities. It seemed like Jack needed to stay close to Wilson to accomplish something bigger than just busting ‘one’ commander. But, what? Could it be…?</p>
<p>“And, even if it was, I definitely can’t turn on Wilson now, can I?”, Jack added, which confused her even more.   </p>
<p>“Why not?”, she asked, rather challengingly.</p>
<p>“If he goes down, you’ll be punished too”, he reminded her.</p>
<p>“And why would you care about that?”. She stared into Jack’s eyes, in disbelief. It was the jackpot question. Why would he care about a woman he barely knew? She didn’t believe it was about attraction. It had to be more important than that. So, what was it? He probably needed her to accomplish his main goal. But, what was it..? Could it be…? Had she indeed found a member of the fabled secret resistance, after all?</p>
<p>“<em>May</em>be, ‘cause you and I are not that different”, he whispered as an answer, getting slightly closer to her, emphasising the syllable <em>may</em>.</p>
<p>Finally, Renee took a deep breath and decided to take a big risk…</p>
<p>“Jack, what would you do if I said… Mayday?”</p>
<p>She held her breath, wondering if this was the end for her. But Jack chuckled and smiled with great relief, as if he had been waiting for her to say that magic word all along.</p>
<p>So, maybe, this wasn’t the end. Maybe, this was the beginning of the road to freedom.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading this far!! Please, I'd love your comments and feedback. What did you think of this chapter?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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